Читать книгу These Arms of Mine - Judy Hubbard Lynn - Страница 12

Chapter 3

The following morning Derrick was engrossed in work when the intercom buzzed. Without being told, he knew who was here to see him and his heartbeat quickened.

“Yes?”

“Sir, Ms. Robinson is here to see you.”

“Please send her in.”

Standing, he walked over to the door seconds before it opened, admitting Alesha. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. He remained silent. This was her show.

She took a deep breath, released it and, before she lost her nerve, said, “I’ll marry you.”

“I see.”

“You don’t seem very surprised.” She raised an arched eyebrow.

He ushered her over to a chair in front of his desk and then perched on the edge. “I’m not. You didn’t have much of a choice.”

“No, I didn’t.”

She didn’t try to hide the resentment in her voice before angrily lowering her gaze from his. She was uncomfortable with him so close and wished he would move away. Yet, even as the thought entered her mind, she realized she would have to get used to being in much closer proximity than this to him—after all, they would soon be husband and wife. At that thought, she shuddered visibly.

“Are you cold?” His hand rose toward her.

“No.”

Sensing her discomfort, he dropped his hand to his side, stood up, walked behind his desk and sat down. He smiled slightly as she breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“Do you have any questions?” He leaned back in his chair and studied her somber expression.

“Such as?”

“In case you’ve forgotten in the time we’ve been apart, my age, religion, likes, dislikes, etc.”

“Tell me whatever you want.”

He smiled slightly at her tone, which infuriated her. Why did he always act as if she amused him? He was so frustrating!

“To refresh your memory, I’m thirty-six, born and raised in Washington. I was an only child. My parents are deceased. My favorite food is Italian.” He rambled off facts she was mortified to realize she still remembered.

“I’ll make a mental note of all that.”

“You do that.” He leaned forward. “Let’s discuss specifics, shall we?”

What he really wanted to do was touch her—to experience the softness of her skin for a much longer duration than yesterday’s brief contact. He wanted to release her bountiful mane from its clasp, bury his face in the feathery soft tresses and see firsthand if they were as silky and soft as he remembered. He wanted to devour those pouting, luscious lips…

“All right, but I have one condition.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re in no position to make any demands.”

His arrogance was born out of desperation rather than disdain. He didn’t want to be cold with her, but it was either that or make a complete fool of himself by acting on his longings.

The hair on her neck stood on end at his insufferable tone. However, her voice was measured when she responded. “I realize that, but I really must insist on this one.”

“What is it?”

“My mother must believe our marriage is real. I don’t want to upset her.”

Did she imagine the softening of his features at her sincere confession? That was ridiculous. He hated her and marriage to him would be his ultimate revenge.

Much to her surprise, he agreed. “Fair enough. Everyone has to believe our marriage is real—that includes your mother.” At her continued silence, he said, “Anything else?”

“Yes.” She paused, trying to find the best way to phrase her next request.

“Well…” He drummed his fingers on the desktop, not out of frustration or impatience, but to keep them from trying to touch her.

“I’d like us to be engaged for a few months so that my mother will buy our relationship.”

His fingers immediately stilled. “Impossible.”

“Why not?”

“I have a little over a year until the election. We must be married as soon as possible.” He paused, considering a compromise. “I can give you a month at the most.”

What he didn’t tell her was that he doubted he could wait longer than that to quench his burning desire for her—he prayed he wouldn’t go mad trying. Damn her and him! Why, after all that had transpired between them in the past, did she still have the power to unnerve him the way no other woman ever had?

“This will never work, you know.” She shook her head.

“It will work.” He smiled confidently. “Wait and see.”

“If you say so.” Her tone belied her skepticism.

“Do I need to remind you what I expect from this marriage?” His gray eyes bore into hers.

Nervously wringing her hands in her lap, she warily met his gaze. “No.”

“You’re positive?” He stood and walked slowly toward her until he reached her side.

“I’m positive.” She also stood to be on a more level plane with him.

“Don’t say you didn’t know what to expect.”

“Is there anything else?” She unflinchingly met his determined gaze.

“Just three things.”

He motioned for her to resume her seat, which she did reluctantly. He perched on the desk in front of her. He wished she would stop looking so sad, as if she were being handed a death sentence.

“What are they?”

“First of all, I don’t know whether you’re on birth control or not, but if not, you will need to start immediately.”

She felt her cheeks grow warm at his intimate demands. How could he expect her to discuss such things with him! His words made her fully aware of what their relationship would be, and all she could do was stare at him in embarrassment.

“Since this is only a business arrangement, neither of us needs or wants any unnecessary complications.”

She found her voice and whispered resentfully, “Why is it always the woman’s responsibility?”

“Well, I can’t speak for other men, but as for me, I dislike the feel of a condom. I don’t want anything to come between me and…”

“I’ll take care of it.”

She blushed hotly at his blatant admission, wanting to get off this subject as soon as possible. She reached up to touch her suddenly constricted throat.

He smiled at her as his eyes moved down her face to rest on her slightly quivering, espresso-colored lips, before traveling slowly back up to encounter her distraught eyes, and his smile deepened. However, there was something else present in her eyes—a deep longing, an expectation, a need. He saw it there, silently admitting that it echoed similar smoldering feelings within him.

She really was delicious. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy being married to her very much—while it lasted. He forced himself to mentally add the last observation and forcefully reminded himself that theirs would only be a brief alliance to purge her from his life once and for all. He didn’t want or need anything more permanent.

“What’s number two?” Her voice was breathless as she brought a hand up to her suddenly burning cheeks.

“It concerns your job.” His tones took on an ominous ring.

“What about it?”

“You’ll have to give it up.”

Her eyes changed from wary to disbelieving to angry as she glared at him. He felt an absurd desire to pull her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right.

“Give up nursing? Why?”

“The main reason for this marriage is so that I will have a ready-made hostess. You’ll have to be available at a moment’s notice. That’s hardly possible for someone in your profession.”

“I love my work. I don’t suppose that matters to you.”

“I understand, and I know that you’re very good at it.” The sympathy in his voice was overshadowed by the sacrifice he was asking her to make.

“How do you know that?”

“Have you forgotten that I saw you in action when we first met at the accident scene?”

She remembered everything about their intense first meeting. It had been a multivehicle accident that both had stopped to help at. He had been strong, unshakable at the sight of blood and torn flesh and had been very receptive to taking orders from a woman.

“No, I haven’t forgotten.”

He had watched the play of emotions flit across her beautiful face. He wanted to ask if she remembered every detail of their breakup, too, but that was unnecessary. Finally having her in his presence again, he wanted to know why she had shut him out of her life. To this day, her rejection still rankled him, and that was one thing he was fighting tooth and nail to keep from her.

“What else do I have to give up?”

“Are you agreeing to my second condition, or do we end this right here?” His hooded eyes watched her carefully.

“Yes, what’s your third condition?”

Her words should have thrilled him, yet instead they cut through him like a hot knife. He didn’t know why he had the urge to apologize to her or why her understandable unhappiness made him so unhappy. He reminded himself that this was only a business arrangement, not an emotional entanglement. Either she agreed to his terms, or he would call the deal off and have her brother prosecuted. He wasn’t forcing her to marry him. She had a choice—one he knew she wouldn’t take—but a choice nonetheless.

“My third condition is this.”

Unable to hold himself in check another second, he stood and slid one strong arm beneath her coat around her slender waist, pulling her closer as his other hand moved to the back of her head, pulling her lips toward his.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She pressed her hands against his solid chest, trying unsuccessfully to break free from his unwelcomed embrace.

“You’ll have to do better than this, or you won’t convince anyone that you’re madly in love with me.” He lowered his head toward hers.

She continued to struggle in vain. However, when his lips were mere inches from hers, one hand released her silky tresses from their confining clasp, allowing the shoulder-length tendrils to slide over his fingers as he pulled her mouth toward his. As he had known it would, her hair felt like silk against his fingers. His appreciative eyes swept her distraught face thoroughly.

“I prefer your hair loose, remember?”

“Mr. Chandler, I don’t care what you prefer.”

“Oh, but you will care.” His softly voiced promise caught in her throat as he once again instructed her to use his first name.

“No.” She strained against his ironclad embrace.

“You’ll say my name on moans of passion in just a few seconds.”

“Never.”

She knew her denial lacked believability because her voice was breathless, and a strange feeling began forming in her stomach at his nearness.

“We’ll see.”

Before she could respond, determined lips closed over hers in a strong kiss. His mouth was warm and inviting, not cold and repulsive as she had hoped it would be. She had known from past experience that his lips would feel like this—wonderful and vital. Days, months and years were swept away by his sensual mouth as it thoroughly refamiliarized itself with hers.

Her heart began to beat rapidly—not in fear, but in arousal. She moaned in protest to her thoughts and his actions, and her mouth parted slightly in shock and surrender.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He took full advantage of her surprise, sliding his tongue between her lips to slip into the honeyed recesses beyond. He continued to masterfully taste every centimeter, every tantalizing crevice of the bounty he had uncovered.

Her hands moved to his shoulders to push him away, yet stopped there, resting instead. Did she really want to escape? That simple yet complex question rolled around in her dazed mind. A hundred confusing sensations bombarded her entire being as Derrick continued his mind-shattering caresses. She hadn’t expected to be blown away by a simple kiss after two years. However, there was nothing remotely simple about Derrick’s kiss, or her disheartening responses to the masterful, sensual onslaught he was unleashing on her.

One of his hands slid languidly down her back to rest on her hip, pressing her closer against his hard length as his mouth continued to plunder hers. Her eyes were half closed, as sensation after sensation—each an awakening, each frightening and intensely pleasurable—began to overpower her self-proclaimed resentment of the man whose arms she was nearly melting into. The hands resting on his shoulders flexed and then tightened their grip as she resisted an almost irrepressible urge to entwine them around his neck and press herself even closer against his hard length.

Never in a million years would she have dreamed she would be in Derrick’s arms again, enjoying his kisses and caresses. Yet, here she was, wanting, almost reveling, in this intimate contact with a man she should hate for blackmailing her into marriage. She hadn’t bargained for this. She hadn’t expected to still be attracted to him physically. How could this be? Even as the question arose in her mind, she admitted that he was the only man who had ever elicited such thorough, satisfying, mind-boggling passion from her and, to her dismay, he had lost none of his skills when it came to arousing her hidden desires.

His lips slowly drew apart from hers, despite a slight moan of protest from her, and he huskily commanded, “Say my name.”

“No.”

Her voice was soft and tortured. For the life of her she didn’t know where the strength to articulate came from.

Her refusal made him pull her closer, until she felt every hard inch of his wonderful body pressed intimately, maddeningly against her own. Unapologetic hands slipped beneath her sweater to touch the satiny heated flesh of her back, and she thought she would die from something very close to rapture when he pulled her yet closer.

Playful lips nipped at hers before sliding down her jaw to burrow into her softly scented throat. She gasped as he raked his strong teeth across her skin, and then his tongue traced the outline of her collarbone before he raised his head to stare into her confused, dazed, passion-glazed eyes.

“Say my name.” As he softly repeated his previous command, one of his hands moved to her hair, his fingers entangling there.

He was as surprised as she looked at the shock of pleasure holding and kissing her elicited within him. It was as if the damnable time they had spent apart had never occurred. He pulled her mouth to within centimeters of his. His tongue skimmed her lips lightly before retreating again, refusing to give her what she wanted until she yielded to his demands.

“Say it.”

His warm breath intermingled with hers as the hand at her back moved to rest between her shoulder blades before sliding back down her satiny flesh. He needed to hear his name on her lips, whispered with passion before he muffled the sound with his ravenous, hungry mouth.

She closed her eyes briefly before acquiescing. She spoke so softly he thought he had imagined it.

“Derrick.”

“Again.” He softly kissed her quivering lips—lips that were as addictive as anything he had ever known.

“Derrick,” she reiterated on a sigh, and then on a moan, as he had foretold, as his lips and hands continued to lightly caress her. “Derrick.”

The last thing she saw was his smile—not of triumph, but of understanding—before her eyes closed once her mouth was finally, ravenously recaptured. He kissed her again and again and she prayed he would stop soon before she begged him never to. His lips were like a magnet, attracting her against her will, holding her mesmerized, unable to break away.

The last thing she wanted was to escape from this intensely pleasurable embrace. Her mind screamed out for her to put as much distance between them as possible, yet her body craved closer contact with his—much closer. How could she remotely tolerate kisses from a man who was single-handedly ruining her career and stealing her freedom? What in the name of God was wrong with her? She couldn’t begin to formulate an answer anymore than she could deny that she craved and enjoyed his kisses, almost to the point of self-destruction.

After endless, sweet minutes of torture, his firm, strong, warm lips dragged themselves from hers. She fought the urge to pull his mouth back to hers and gradually opened her confused, embarrassed eyes to find him staring at her with an unreadable expression. Her cheeks were warm, her lips were trembling, and she could just die from the embarrassment.

He smiled slightly, one of his fingers trailing over her quivering, moist lips as he huskily said, “I think our arrangement will be very profitable and pleasurable—for the both of us.”

She pushed away from him at his words, partly in anger and partly just needing to escape from his overpowering presence and from her own desires. She needed to get out of there! This time he let her go, and this time she nearly ran out the door, not stopping to look back—certain she would find him following her.

Had she turned to stare at him, she would have seen echoing arousal, disbelief and dismay etched on his handsome features. Her retreating pace accelerated until she was safely out of his maddening reach—for the moment.

A few days later, she sat beside Derrick in one of the most upscale jewelry shops in Washington. Even though she had insisted she didn’t want an expensive ring, he had been adamant that she would wear a ring to be marveled at, for appearances’ sake.

She hadn’t seen him since the devastating kisses in his office, yet the time apart had done nothing to ease her mind, nor squelch her anticipation of their next encounter. She didn’t know what was the matter with her or who she was becoming. Even more unnerving, when she was with him, she wasn’t sure she even cared.

“What about this one?” He held up a three-carat brilliant-cut diamond solitaire, set in a split band of platinum.

“It’s beautiful but…” She carefully took the exquisite ring from his fingers.

“But what?” He eyed her closely.

“It’s too expensive—all these rings are.”

She placed the exquisite ring back onto the black velvet cover on the table next to the matching wedding band, which was inset with a carat of diamonds halfway around it, and the man’s wedding band, which was a thick circle of brightly polished platinum with scrollwork over its surface.

“Nonsense.” He smiled at her assertion. “Besides, when this is all over, you’ll have something to sell that will bring you a nice piece of change.”

She turned hurt and angry eyes on him. When she spoke, her voice trembled slightly, “Why did you say that to me? You know I’m not marrying you for your money.”

The somewhat mocking smile on his face slowly faded as he realized he had hurt her. Part of him had meant to, but he derived no pleasure from the fact that he had succeeded. Instead he felt miserable about it. He wasn’t a cruel person and there was no reason for him to act like one.