Once Upon A Mattress

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  She shouldn’t have hired Will in the first place. “Take a memo, Suzette.” She gestured toward an imaginary secretary with her wineglass. “To Amelia Townsend, CEO and nincompoop. Amelia, darling, never hire anybody you want to date. Never, never, never. Because he won’t want to date you. He’ll want to date some perky woman in sales and ask you to be the go-between.”

  She lifted the wineglass to her lips just as the doorbell chimed. Well, it figured. Some days were like that. Couldn’t even take a decent dunk.

  She considered ignoring the caller, then remembered it could have something to do with the store. What if she’d been robbed, or the place was on fire, and someone had come to take her there, not wanting her to drive when she was upset? She’d expect that kind of thoughtfulness from her staff.

  Setting down the wineglass, she left the warm tub with reluctance and dried herself cursorily before pulling on the satin robe. The doorbell chimed again as she padded barefoot to the door. When she checked the peephole to see who was there, she nearly choked.

  Hands trembling, she unlocked the door and opened it j ust as Will started to walk away. “Will?”

  He turned, and his eyes widened. Then he looked chagrined. “I’ve disturbed you. I’m sorry. Today just isn’t my day.”

  “Or mine,” she said, shivering both from reaction and the chill of the night air on her still-damp skin. Will was making her dreams come true, but it was like looking at them through a fun-house mirror. She’d often imagined him at her door, and her outfit was certainly appropriate to those fantasies, but he probably only wanted to talk about Leanne again. “What is it?”

  “Never mind. Please go back to ...whatever you were doing. I really apologize. At this rate I’ll get myself fired yet.”

  “Nonsense.” Amelia clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. “Come on in and tell me why you came. I’d discuss it here but I’m freezing to death.”

  He backed away. “No, really. I can—”

  “Will Murdoch, you’re taxing my patience. Come in.”

  “You’re, uh, alone?”

  “As a matter of fact.” She realized he was afraid he’d interrupted something torrid. As if.

  “All right, then. Just for a minute.” He walked past her, bringing in the scent of cool salt air and a faint trace of aftershave that triggered her memory of earlier today when she’d crouched next to him in the storeroom.

  She swallowed and closed the door. Her head knew he didn’t want her, but her body reacted as if any minute he’d turn and take her into his arms. What garbage.

  “I assume this has something to do with Leanne?” she asked.

  He faced her, his eyes dark and mysterious, his hands clenched at his sides. “Yes, it does.”

  Of course, you idiot, she chided herself. Did you imagine he’d had a change of heart and rushed over to tell you he wants you instead?

  ———

  TO HECK WITH LEANNE, Will thought. She might be cute, but on her best day she wouldn’t compare to the elegant beauty standing in front of him.

  “I suppose you’d like to get started on your campaign right away,” Amelia said.

  “To be honest, I—”

  “I don’t blame you. Let me give you a couple of ideas to get you going.”

  He needed to tell her to forget the whole project, but then he’d just have to leave, and he wasn’t ready to do that yet. He was too busy taking in all the solid evidence that she was the sensuous woman he’d imagined her to be. Her living room was full of romance, with carved wood and flowered upholstery. Classical music drifted in from another room.

  From the looks of things, she’d swept her hair back with a ribbon and stepped into a bubble bath not long ago. She smelled wonderful and her throat was still damp, along with a few strands of hair that had slipped loose from the red scrap of ribbon.

  That was another thing. Most women he knew used an elastic piece of material to hold their hair. Amelia preferred ribbon. She also preferred satin and lace against her skin, and Will had a strong premonition she was wearing nothing underneath that carefully belted white robe. He’d noticed the thrust of her nipples against the smooth material when she’d stood in the chill of the doorway.

  He should be used to that sight after spending so much time on a campus where women seemed to have given up wearing bras. And he was used to it in the free-spirited atmosphere of UCSD. But Amelia wasn’t a free spirit, at least not in public. This was his first glimpse of her private pleasures, and it drove him wild.

  Without her makeup she looked like a teenager, but no teenager would choose a robe as sophisticated as this. A drop of moisture gathered in the hollow of her throat. He watched it shimmer there a moment before it slipped gently over her collarbone and down into the shadowed cleft just visible between the robe’s lace lapels. His body tightened as he imagined drawing back those lapels.

  “So, is that enough to begin with?” she asked.

  He blinked. He’d been so engrossed in imagining her naked breasts he hadn’t even realized she’d been speaking. “Uh, maybe you’d better go over it one more time.”

  Amelia gazed at him and shook her head. “If you don’t get more sleep soon, you’re going to become a danger to yourself and others.”

  “Right.” He’d take the excuse she’d given him and be glad for it.

  “Okay, now pay attention. She likes chocolate, but not just any kind. White chocolate.”

  “Who?”

  Amelia’s exasperated sigh made her breasts quiver under the satin. “Maybe you should go home and sleep and we’ll discuss this tomorrow. One day won’t make that much difference.”

  Leanne. With an effort he forced himself to concentrate on something besides Amelia’s soft skin underneath the robe. He was supposed to be organizing a secret admirer campaign to get a date with Leanne. He’ d come here to tell Amelia to forget it, because he thought she wouldn’t really want to help. But instead she seemed to be really behind the idea, so backing out now might be worse for his image than continuing with the plan.

  Although he might love standing here weaving fantasies about Amelia, she wasn’t for him. He needed to give this situation with Leanne a chance. He liked Leanne. Away from work she probably wasn’t quite so gung ho. Maybe she enjoyed things like walking hand-in-hand along the beach looking for shells. Maybe she wouldn’t insist, as he’d often imagined, on jogging along the wet sand wearing a Walkman and swinging hand weights.

  Amelia touched his arm. “Go home and get some rest, Will. You’re in a complete fog. I’ll jot down my ideas and give them to you tomorrow.”

  He shook his head. Selfish as it was, he wanted to prolong this moment. He’d probably never be back in this room, never see Amelia in such a seductive outfit again. “No, now is the best time, if you’re willing. I’ve already interrupted your evening, so unless you want to throw me out, we might as well get something accomplished.”

  She gave him a rueful smile. “You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

  “I guess so.” It was sweet punishment, though, being here with her even if he couldn’t follow his instincts. He couldn’t remember when he’d felt more at home than he did in this room.

  “As long as you’re not going to go home and sleep, would you like some coffee and a sandwich?”

  Now she was making him feel guilty. “No, no. That’s okay.”

  “Well, I’m having some. We can talk in the kitchen. I haven’t eaten yet.”

  “Well, in that case, okay. I skipped dinner, myself.”

  “So I figured. No wonder you’re in a daze, with no sleep and no food in you. Just give me a minute to change.” She started out of the room. “This isn’t exactly my company outfit.” Disappointment shot through him. “Hey, don’t bother with that. This is your home, after all, and you look comfortable.”

  She turned back to him. “You don’t think this is unbelievably casual and unprofessional, to entertain an employee in my bathrobe?”

>   “I never even noticed what you had on,” he lied.

  ———

  HE WAS IMMUNE TO HER, then, she thought as she brewed coffee and put together a couple of sandwiches with some leftover chicken. If only she could say the same about her reaction to him. But as long as she focused on his reason for being here—to orchestrate a date with Leanne—she could maintain her masquerade as his buddy.

  So she hadn’t changed from her silk robe into something more appropriate. If he hadn’t even noticed, why worry about it? That he hadn’t been the least interested in the fact she wore nothing underneath the robe was insulting, though. He probably thought of her as some sexless creature who lived for her quarterly profit reports. Okay, she did live for those, but not so much since Will had come to work for her.

  She’d decorated the kitchen like a Parisian cafe, complete with a bistro-sized table and two chairs. Perfect for one, very intimate for two. Whenever she had company she served meals in the dining room, but Will had already taken a seat at the little table, so she put their mugs of coffee there.

  “You’re sure I can’t do anything?” he asked for the second time. “I feel bad putting you to this trouble.”

  “It’s no more trouble for two than for one.” She finished setting the table and put the plate of sandwiches between them. “And besides, this is a practical move on my part. You probably eat junk half the time, which will eventually lower your immune system. If you get sick, I’ll lose my driver until you recover. So I need to keep you healthy.”

  “So this is a business dinner?”

  “Absolutely.” She sat down and accidentally bumped his knee with hers. “Sorry.”

  “No problem. These look great.” He picked up a sandwich and bit into it.

  Apparently being around her when she was half-naked was no problem for him, she thought with some irritation. Here they sat knees to knees, hers bare most of the time because her robe kept slipping, and he was oblivious.

  It wasn’t fair that she should be so obsessed with him and he didn’t feel a thing. The sheer injustice of it made her reckless. She leaned forward a little, just enough to reveal a bit of cleavage. “I hope you like breast of chicken.” He swallowed the bite he’d been chewing. “I do. Thanks.”

  She gazed into his eyes, hoping to see a spark there. “Some people prefer thighs.”

  “I like those, too.” His dark gaze remained unreadable. “I’m pretty easy to please.”

  Apparently, she thought. Leanne was a great saleswoman and very personable, but she was about as deep as the Victorian birdbath Amelia had out on her bedroom balcony. Oh, well. It made the secret admirer plan easier to set up. No subtleties required.

  “As I mentioned when you were spaced-out a while ago, I think you should send Leanne something every day, along with a note,” she said. “I’d start with chocolate.”

  “A box of chocolates? This could get expensive.”

  “That’s why you don’t send her a box. Just one piece. A good piece of white chocolate.”

  Will finished half of a sandwich and picked up another. “White chocolate, huh? Me, I like the dark stuff. The richer and stronger, the better.”

  “Truffles,” Amelia said, almost tasting it on her tongue. “Dark chocolate and espresso.”

  “Mmm.” He met her gaze. “Dark chocolate and caramel.”

  She smiled. “Dark chocolate with a fresh raspberry center.”

  “Unless you have some chocolate in this house you’d better stop tempting me.”

  She looked into his eyes. Too bad the glow she saw there was motivated by candy. “I don’t.”

  “Too bad.”

  She indulged herself in the warmth of his glance for another moment before returning to business. “Okay, elegant single pieces of white chocolate. Send them for three, maybe four days. Then you could start sending other little gifts, nothing expensive, but something with meaning for her.”

  “Such as?”

  “She’s a big Disney fan. That should help you.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Then for the last two or three days, you can get into the flower routine. I’d send single blooms at first. She seems to like yellow and orange. Save your money for that final delivery of a dozen red roses and the invitation to dinner on Valentine’s Day. And that should do it. Secret admirer revealed, romance begins.” What a depressing thought. Amelia hoped she’d be buying a ticket to New York by then.

  “And you’ll help me get this stuff to her so she doesn’t know it’s me sending it?”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “And you think this will work? She’ll want to go out with the guy who does all this?”

  Amelia leaned her chin on her hands and gazed at him. She couldn’t imagine that he didn’t know how gorgeous he was. “I think she’d go out with you if you walked up and asked her, Will. You probably don’t need to do any of it.”

  He put down his coffee mug. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Why?”

  He gave her a sideways glance and looked away. “Because it’s been a while. If you tell me she’s excited about meeting the guy who’s sending her stuff, that will really help my confidence level.”

  She was astounded that he felt he needed a crutch. “But Will, you’re—” She caught herself before she said the word gorgeous. “You have all sorts of things going for you. Why wouldn’t she want to date you?”

  “Because I’d bungle the part where I asked her. I’ m not good at making jokes and small talk like Troy and other guys I know. Never have been. With someone like Leanne, I don’t want to hang everything on simply asking her out for a cup of coffee.”

  “This date matters that much to you?” He gazed at her. “I guess you could say that.”

  Amelia’s heart sank. He was already in love with Leanne.

  Chapter Four

  WILL WASN’T SURE how much longer he could hang on to his control. He’d nearly lost it twice—when she’d leaned forward and asked him if he liked breast of chicken, and when they’d been comparing notes on chocolate. She probably didn’t even mean to tantalize him. After all, who was he but some guy she’d hired to move furniture?

  Still, just in case he was wrong and she had been sending him a subtle invitation, he decided to do a little probing. He’d polished off two sandwiches and was on his second cup of coffee. He needed to go home soon, but she didn’t seem in any hurry, so maybe she was enjoying the company.

  He took another sip of the coffee. Good stuff. “I’ve been wondering something ever since I started work at Bedroom Fantasies,” he said.

  “What’s that?” She cradled her mug in both hands.

  He’d enjoyed noticing little things, like her clear nail polish and the antique setting of the opal she wore on the ring finger of her right hand. “Where did the idea for the fantasy bedrooms come from?”

  She hesitated and finally shrugged. “I just thought it would be cool.”

  “It is. I just thought ...I don’t know. I picture you and some special guy dreaming it up.”

  “Nope.”

  He dared a little more. “I’ll bet your boyfriend likes the whole concept, though. I mean, you’re the owner, so you could change your own bedroom any time you wanted.”

  Her smile was secretive. “I don’t change my bedroom.”

  “You don’t?” That surprised him. “Now I’m curious.”

  She pushed back her chair. “Come on. I’ve served you dinner in my bathrobe, so you may as well get a tour of my bedroom.” She glanced at him. “I’ll keep your secrets if you’ll keep mine.”

  “That goes without saying.” His heart raced, and it was only partly from the recent dose of caffeine. He wondered if he was up to this, if once he stepped into her bedroom his control would snap for good and he’d haul her into his arms, strip off that robe and...

  No, he couldn’t let that happen. For some reason she’d let him into her confidence, probably because he’d admitted his vulnerability where Leanne was con
cerned. Amelia couldn’t know how she affected him as she made these personal revelations. One thing was for sure, after seeing her bedroom he’d know whether she had a steady guy or not. A woman in love nearly always kept a picture of her man on the bedside table. He followed her down the hall. “I decided to design one bedroom grouping that would be mine alone,” she said over her shoulder. “The store designs will eventually have hundreds of copies all over the country, especially if Jonathan Peterson opens a franchise on Fifth Avenue. I wanted something unique for myself.”

  “Fifth Avenue, huh?”

  “Yes, on the condition that I go back there and open the store for him.”

  The hair on the back of Will’s neck rose as a primitive instinct sensed a rival. What a laugh. Will wasn’t even in the running. “Is Peterson an old guy?” he asked, even if he had no right to.

  “Somewhere between thirty-five and forty, I’d guess.”

  He absorbed the information with a sense of foreboding. “And rich.”

  “Very.” She stepped aside. “Here it is.”

  He glanced through the doorway and sucked in a breath. With luck she hadn’t noticed his gasp, and with even more luck he wouldn’t develop an erection just looking at her incredible bed.

  It was drenched in a heady, heavy sensuality, strengthened by its lack of color. The massive headboard, footboard and canopy were intricately carved and enameled to look like polished silver. Tasseled ropes gathered thick ivory draperies at each supporting post, and swags of the same brocade hung in luxurious layers around the edge of the canopy. Embroidered in white, the coverlet and pillows glowed with the richness of satin.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  What did he think? That he’d better get the hell out of there. The woman, the bed and the scent of lavender from the marble bathroom visible through an arched doorway had kicked his sex drive into high gear.

  “I call it Surrender;” she said. “It’s ...really something.” He sounded as if he’d been running a marathon. “And you know what? I really should get going. Get some of that sleep you think I need.”