Читать книгу CEO's Marriage Seduction / His Style of Seduction - Anna DePalo - Страница 13

Six

Any hope she’d had that she could chalk up last week’s embrace as an aberration was vaporized by the heat of their kiss.

It sizzled along her nerve endings, danced along the surface of her skin and pooled as throbbing need between her legs.

Griffin cupped the back of her head, slanted his mouth and deepened the kiss, giving her his tongue.

Rock-hard planes pressed against her, and his mouth tasted of wine and man.

It was like being consumed, Eva thought dimly. Unwrapped, exposed and thoroughly enjoyed.

She moaned low in her throat…and a moment later heard a whistle of encouragement.

Abruptly she was brought back to earth.

She pushed Griffin away, and her gaze landed on the amused expressions of two of the waitstaff.

Clearly she and Griffin had been providing some free entertainment.

She compressed her lips. She should be setting an example for her employees, not engaging in teenage antics.

She touched Griffin’s arm and said tightly, “Come with me.”

She knew there was a study across the hall from the kitchen, and it was likely empty since the party was taking place mostly outside.

She led the way, and once inside, she shut the door behind them.

Table lamps cast a warm yellow glow, lighting a room done in dark hues, from the maroon leather chair to the gray sofa facing the fireplace.

She faced Griffin. “So is today’s performance your coda to a carefully constructed plan to ruin my life?”

He raised his eyebrows, his expression mild.

She started counting off on her fingers. “Let’s see. Last week, you informed me that my fiancé was cheating on me. This week, you grab me for an adolescent tussle in front of my employees.”

He had the indecency to let his lips to twitch.

“I needed to grab your attention,” he said. “I succeeded.”

She ignored the flutter in her stomach. “I have options, you know.”

So what if she sounded defensive? This whole conversation was ridiculous. She couldn’t believe she was even discussing the topic of conceiving a child with Griffin Slater.

Except his proposition was so ludicrous, she was having a hard time coming up with a sane way to refute it. So instead of addressing the sticky issues—such as their complete incompatibility—she went for the straightforward one.

She regarded him coolly. “It’s possible to just buy a vial of sperm over the Internet these days. Why do I need you when I’m capable of getting pregnant on my own?”

He eyed her. “Do you really want to be a single parent?”

What she really wanted was to be loved for herself, she thought, but squelched the wayward thought. “I could have my eggs frozen until I met someone.”

“Egg freezing technology is still experimental. Besides, you could be waiting years to be a parent.”

She was surprised he knew about egg freezing, but she supposed he’d read a news report somewhere.

“I’d be a father to your child. To our child,” he continued. “Today. Tomorrow.”

Damn him. He was holding out everything she wanted on a silver platter. Well, almost everything.

Her silly heart ached, and she automatically sought to protect it. It had been getting a pounding recently.

“What’s in this for you?” she asked suspiciously.

“With any luck, I’ll get a child—a child who will one day inherit Tremont REH.”

She frowned. “How are you any different from Carter then? He had ulterior motives that involved getting his hands on Tremont REH money and so do you.”

He looked as if she’d insulted him. “In the first place, I’m being up-front with you. Our marriage would have advantages for both of us. Secondly, I don’t want Tremont REH for myself.” He shrugged. “But I’d be happy if a child of ours inherited that legacy.”

She was surprised he didn’t claim he was entitled to get his hands on Tremont REH by virtue of his having contributed to its success, and grudgingly conceded it was a point in his favor.

At the same time, she knew she had to get away now, because her abused heart just couldn’t take any more.

She’d spent her whole life trying to create an identity for herself apart from being the Tremont heiress—real estate mogul Marcus Tremont’s daughter. It had been a futile effort, but she hated the way it always caught up with her—particularly now.

She reached for the doorknob. “I need to get back.”

Griffin stepped forward, his gaze intent. “Eva—”

Just then, however, the door was pushed open, and she took a step back, her hand falling away from the knob.

One of her employees, dressed as a 1930s-era doctor, complete with head mirror and suspenders, appeared in the doorway.

“Here you are!” he said. “We’ve all been looking for you! Sue wants to know where Beth Harding’s spare freezer is located.”

She chanced one more look at Griffin. “I’ve got to go.”

Then she ducked out of the room.

She wasn’t fleeing…or so she tried to convince herself.

“He what?” Beth Harding asked.

“He proposed to me,” Eva repeated. Saying the words made them only slightly more real.

She leaned back against the cushions of her couch and set her coffee cup down on the end table. She was still in her pajamas, having allowed herself the luxury of sleeping in after having worked at the Hardings’ party.

Beth laughed. “Well that was quick work. Last week, he got rid of your fiancé and this week he proposes to you himself!”

“In a sense.”

She’d filled in Beth about Carter’s deceit and Griffin’s role in bringing it to her attention. She’d left out the kiss with Griffin at her apartment because, she told herself, she’d chalked it up as an aberration.

But there was no way to chalk up a proposal as an anomaly or a figment of her imagination—though she’d tried last night. If she’d been successful, she’d have been able to dismiss the strange temptations she was feeling.

And when Beth had phoned this morning to discuss how the party had gone, she couldn’t help but tell her friend about the real entertainment last night.

“I’ll say this for him,” Beth said. “He’s slow out of the gate, but he sure knows how to make up for lost time. He’s known you, what? Ten years?”

“Has it been that long?” she responded.

“So what are you going to do?” Beth asked.

“Are you kidding? Nothing! In case it’s escaped your notice, I’ve spent the last decade detesting Griffin Slater.”

“There’s a fine line between love and hate.”

Didn’t she know it. The past few days had brought that home to her. She’d thought she loved Carter, only to discover she hadn’t known him at all. And she’d thought she detested Griffin, only to discover, well…

But she didn’t want to go there with Beth. “Anyway, I don’t need him. This is the twenty-first century. I have options. Except, of course, he very considerately pointed out to me that, by taking him up on his proposal, I wouldn’t get just a sperm donor, but an involved father.”

“He’s got a point there.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I’m just saying. I’ve got three kids, and believe me, there are days when I’d like to clone myself.”

“Hmm.”

A buzz sounded, indicating there was an incoming call on her cell phone. She removed the phone from her ear to check the screen, and recognized the number as Griffin’s. Over the years, they’d been in perfunctory phone contact about Tremont REH board business, so she wasn’t surprised he had her number.

Speaking into the phone again, she said to Beth, “You won’t believe this, but it’s Griffin on the other line. Can I talk to you later?”

“Of course! Let me know how it goes. I’ll be dying to know if he drops any other shocks on you. Oliver is so boring!”

When she’d ended the call with Beth, and switched over to the other call, she said unnecessarily, “Hello?”

“It’s Griffin.”

“I suppose you’re calling to recant your moment of insanity last night,” she said, affecting a bored tone, even though she was experiencing the exhilaration of a sky dive. “Well, no need to bother—”

“Actually,” he interrupted dryly, “I’m calling to hire you for a party.”

She sighed. “I feel compelled to point out that, as your spouse, you’d get my services for free. So, I’m confused—have you decided to hedge your bets?”

He laughed. “Okay, you’re on to me. My diabolic plan is to force you, one way or another, to provide me with a free party whenever I want.”

“I’ve got news for you,” she shot back. “It would hardly be a party.”

He chuckled. “I think I could handle you.”

A wave of heat sizzled through her.

“I really am calling to hire you,” he insisted. “I’ve been thinking of throwing a cocktail party for some business associates a week from Friday.”

“Oh.”

“Are you available?”

“I need to check my calendar.” She already knew she was free.

“I was planning to go with the caterer I usually use, nothing fancy, but after seeing you in action last night, I wanted to hire Occasions by Designs.”

“I don’t come cheap.”

“Do you really want my answer to that?”

“You are persistent.”

“My middle name. And how can you resist the opportunity to prove to me how good you are?” he said, his voice low and smooth as silk.

Damn him, he knew how to get to her.

Aloud, she said crisply, “We’ll have to discuss what you want, and I’ll have to send you my standard contract.”

“Excellent.”

When she ended her call with Griffin, she immediately thought that she was going to regret agreeing to this assignment.

Before she could dwell on her anxiety, however, her phone rang again, playing “That’s What Friends Are For.”

She flicked the cell open. “Hello, Beth.”

“Well?” her friend asked. “How did it go? I decided calling was better than dying to find out.”

“He wants to hire me.”

“Rent-a-wife?”

“No, another stunner. He wants me to arrange a party for him. I can’t tell anymore if he’s lusting after me or Occasions by Design.”

“Well, I give him points for originality. It’s better than lusting for the Tremont REH millions.”

Actually, Griffin was keeping her so off balance, Eva thought, that she wasn’t sure what he was really after.

As she filled in Beth about her phone call with Griffin, she also realized that, for once in her life, she could see a positive side to being pursued for her money by men like Carter: at least she knew where she stood.

Eva arrived at Griffin’s Pacific Heights mansion at four on a bright Friday afternoon. She had given herself three hours to set up before the guests arrived.

From the curb, Eva looked up at the house’s impressive Queen Anne facade, which was partially shielded from the street by a high fence and well-manicured front garden.

When Griffin had given her his address over the phone last week, so she could set up deliveries for the party, she hadn’t thought twice about his location in Pacific Heights.

Now, however, she was surprised to discover he lived in a majestic structure replete with gables, wings and towers.

She was charmed despite herself.

Over the years, she’d made a point not to be curious about Griffin. The less she knew about him, the more she could pretend not to be affected by him. And because they’d ironed out the details of tonight’s party by phone and fax, she’d never had the opportunity to see his home until today.

She’d been relieved, actually, by the indirect communication. These days, she didn’t think she could take another face-to-face encounter with Griffin.

But she knew her reprieve was about to come to an end.

As some of her employees unloaded supplies from one of Occasions by Design’s vans, Griffin drove up in his silver sports car.

She watched him park at the curb. Seconds later, he emerged, pushing back black sunglasses to the top of his head.

She took in his navy-blue suit, and noted he looked as if he’d gotten a haircut. His hair, short to begin with, now thinly outlined his uncompromisingly masculine face.

He looked crisp, sexy…spectacular.

Her body vibrated with energy. It was a reaction she was growing used to now that she knew the reaction he was able to evoke from her with his lips and his hands.

Still, she was determined to resist him. Tonight was about scoring another hit for Occasions by Design. Nothing else.

She told herself she was here simply because she had room in her calendar to arrange this party. Of course, after the Carter debacle—how could she have been so blind?—it was also possible she was a master of self-deception.

Luckily her parents weren’t going to be here tonight, so the pressure was off in that regard. She knew from her mother that her parents had had to decline Griffin’s invitation because they’d a prior commitment.

“Hello,” Griffin called, his gaze sweeping over her.

She felt his look like a hot stamp, and she smoothed her hand over a crease in her trousers. She was dressed in an outfit she loved—a beaded, cornflower-blue top, black silk pants and Christian Louboutin mules—but she suddenly felt self-conscious.

To cover her nervousness, she nodded to the mansion before them. “Not quite where I pictured you living.”

A slow smile spread across his face as he came closer. “Let me guess. You were expecting some penthouse condo bachelor pad.”

She nodded. “I thought I heard my father mention a while back that you had a place somewhere downtown.”

“I gave up the penthouse a couple of years ago.” He shrugged. “I was looking for a change. And this place allows me to entertain on a larger scale. It’s still a work in progress, though.”

“Two years ago?” she asked. “Wasn’t that around the time you got your promotion to CEO of Tremont REH?”

She was being contrary by implying Tremont money was the reason he could afford a fancy Pacific Heights address, but she couldn’t help herself.

Anything to divert the heat of his gaze from her. She felt as if she could go up in flames right here on the pavement.

“Let’s just say, the real estate market was doing well at the time,” he returned easily. “For Evkit Investments as well as Tremont REH.”

“I just assumed a penthouse would be more your speed,” she said in a more conciliatory tone. “You must be lost in all this space.”

An enigmatic smile played at his lips. “Hoping for evidence in my choice of real estate that I’m not the settling down type? Sorry to disappoint.”

“Actually,” she parried, “I thought you’d enjoy the view from up high in a penthouse, looking down at us lesser mortals.”

He chuckled, and then murmured, “I don’t think you have a clue what I’d enjoy, Evangeline.”

Eva realized they were no longer talking about real estate—or even the seriousness of his marriage proposal.

A vision of the two of them having sex on tangled sheets sprang into her mind.

Reflexively she shook her head to clear it.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his expression amused and too knowing.

She whirled away. “I need to go supervise in the kitchen since there’s not much time. I’m here to plan a party, remember?”

“Of course,” he murmured as she turned away. “Why else would you be here?”

His cryptic comment almost broke her stride, but she forced herself to keep going.

His question echoed in her head. Why else would she be here?