Читать книгу Matched To Mr Right - Kat Cantrell - Страница 11

Four

Dannie slept poorly that night. The bed was comfortable, but she wasn’t. Leo had her tied up in knots.

Now that she knew how truly earthshaking his eyes looked when they were hot with passion, she didn’t know if she’d ever be comfortable again. The spike of awareness inside—deep, deep inside—had peaked the second he touched her and then died a miserable death during the “I’m a workaholic, deal with it” conversation.

He was definitely attracted to her. And perfectly willing to ignore it in favor of his bottom line. How exactly did he envision them moving past being polite strangers?

Her new plan might need some refining. Just because she and Leo’s mother thought he might benefit from a woman’s tender affections didn’t mean Leo thought that. And if Dannie irritated him any further with unwanted advances, he might seek that annulment on his own. At which point she’d get nothing and she’d let her mother and Elise down. Plus herself.

But as far she was concerned, they were married for life, and she wanted to eventually be friends and lovers. Despite Leo’s impassioned speech, she really didn’t understand why he didn’t want that, too.

Hence the sleepless night.

She woke in the morning, groggy but determined to be a better wife to Leo Reynolds than he could ever dream. Rob had wanted a fade-into-the-background woman and she’d messed up. Elise’s training had taught her how to beat back that strong-willed inner Scarlett.

Leo was going to get what he’d asked for.

If she addressed his needs—especially the unrealized ones—maybe that would lead them into a deeper relationship.

After she dressed and arrived downstairs, one of the maids informed her Leo had already left for the day. Instead of wallowing in disappointment she had no business feeling, she familiarized herself with the kitchen as she toasted bread and scrambled eggs. Tomorrow morning, she’d set an alarm and be up early to make Leo coffee or breakfast or whatever he preferred, which she needed to learn pronto if she hoped to see him in the morning.

Dannie spent the rest of the morning in an endless parade of tasks: learning the ins and outs of a difficult phone that she refused to believe was smarter than she was, memorizing the brands of Leo’s clothes, determining how he preferred his closet to be organized, researching the recommended care of all the fabrics. As mistress of the household, it was her responsibility to ensure the servants did their jobs well and correct poor performance as necessary. By lunch, her brain hurt.

And she hadn’t even started on Leo’s social calendar.

Once she tapped into the wealth of information named Mrs. Gordon, Dannie breathed a little easier. Leo’s admin talked for a solid hour and then sent a dozen emails full of links and instructions about the care and feeding of a venture capitalist.

Dannie read everything twice as she absently shoved a sandwich in her mouth.

Mrs. Gordon wrapped up the exchange with a tip about an invitation to an alumni event from Leo’s college, which was that very night. She kindly agreed to delete the reminder entry she’d already set up so Dannie could practice scheduling.

Perfect. Dannie plunked the stupid phone into her palm and eyed it. “I’m the boss. You better cooperate,” she told it, and proceeded to manhandle the appointment onto Leo’s calendar.

When his acceptance appeared, she nearly broke into an impromptu dance. Until she noticed she’d scheduled it for tomorrow night. Grimly, she rescheduled and got it right the second time. Leo was probably sitting in his office shaking his head as he accepted the updated request.

Enough of that job. Dannie went to agonize over her meager wardrobe in anticipation of her first social appearance as Mrs. Leo Reynolds. This she’d have to get right on the first shot. She couldn’t carry a second outfit in her clutch in case of dress remorse.

Leo walked through the door at precisely six o’clock. Dannie was ready and waiting for him in the kitchen, the closest room to the detached garage. The salmon-colored dress she wore accentuated her figure but had tasteful, elegant lines. Elise had taught her to pick flattering clothes and it looked fantastic on her, especially coupled with strappy Jimmy Choos heels. Would Leo notice?

“How was your day?” she asked politely while taking in the stress lines and shadows around his eyes that said he’d slept poorly, as well.

Something unfolded in her chest, urging her to smooth back the dark hair from his forehead and lightly massage his temples. Or whatever would soothe him. She wanted to know what to do for him, what he’d appreciate.

He set a brown leather messenger bag on the island in the kitchen. “Fine. And yours?”

“Wonderful.” Except for the part where he hadn’t kissed her goodbye. Or hello. Shut up, Scarlett. “The alumni gala is at the Renaissance Hotel. My driver will take us as soon as we’re ready.”

He hadn’t said a word about her dress. Perhaps she’d take that as a sign he wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with her and not dwell on whether it got a response or not. Compliments weren’t the reason she’d married Leo.

“That’s fine. Let me change and we’ll go.” Leo set off for the stairs, fingers already working on his tie, which she’d have gladly taken off for him, if he’d let her. “They’re giving an award to a friend of mine, and we should take him to dinner afterward.”

Reservations. Where? For how many? But Leo was gone before she could ask.

Totally winging it, she called the most expensive restaurant she’d heard of and booked a table for four in Leo’s name. If nothing else, the restaurant might be willing to add a few more to the party for a distinguished guest like Leo Reynolds.

Leo returned to the kitchen a short time later and she forgot all about a little thing like reservations. In black tie, Leo simply stole her breath.

“Ready?” he asked with raised eyebrows, likely because her fish-mouth impersonation amused him.

He was so delicious with his dark hair and dark suit, all crisp and masculine with a slight sensuous edge that set off something sharp and hot inside her. Last night, she’d felt just enough of the body he carried under that suit and the memory reintroduced itself as she let her eyes travel the entire length of her husband.

He cleared his throat and her gaze snapped to his. He was still waiting on her response.

“Ready,” she squeaked and grabbed her clutch.

Leo kept up the conversation as they rode to the hotel with his confident, steady presence. She suspected—and appreciated—it was a ploy to dispel her nervousness, but it didn’t work.

Leo escorted her through the lobby of the hotel with a hand at the small of her back. She liked the way his hand fit there. It served a dual purpose of providing support and showing everyone they were together.

And boy, did people notice. Heads swiveled as they entered the crush in the Renaissance ballroom. A string quartet played Strauss on a small platform in the corner, but the music couldn’t cover the rush of whispers that surely were about the woman with Leo.

One flawless society wife in progress. Who hadn’t gone to college but was going to be brilliant or die trying. Dannie squared her shoulders.

The neckline of her dress slipped, revealing a healthy slice of breast. Surreptitiously, she fingered it back into place. The deep vee over her cleavage wasn’t terribly daring, but it was low-cut and the spaghetti straps were too long for her torso. Since the svelte salmon-colored dress had cost Elise seven hundred dollars, paying to have it altered felt like a sin.

It slipped down again as Leo steered her toward the far corner. As she walked, she lowered one shoulder, Quasimodo-style, hoping to nudge the neckline back where it belonged through a combination of shifting her balance and sheer will.

“Are you okay?” Leo whispered.

She should have worn the dress all day and practiced walking in it. Hindsight. Double-sided tape could have fixed the problem in a jiffy.

“Of course.” She pasted on a serene smile as they halted before a group of men and women Leo clearly knew. Nodding, she greeted people and used all her tricks to remember names. Constantly being fired from a variety of jobs had an upside—few situations or people intimidated her.

“And this is Jenna Crisp,” Leo concluded, indicating a gorgeous redhead on the arm of Leo’s friend Dax Wakefield, who was receiving the alumni award that evening. “Jenna, this is my wife, Daniella Reynolds.”

Dannie shook the woman’s hand but Jenna wasn’t looking at her. The redhead’s attention was on Leo. Hmm. Dannie glanced at him. He didn’t notice Jenna’s scrutiny. Too busy discussing a patent infringement case with Dax. “I’m happy to meet you, Jenna. Have you known Leo long?”

Jenna focused on Dannie, and her expression noticeably cooled. “Long enough. How did you two meet, again?”

The redhead’s tone oozed with challenge, as if there might be something tawdry to the story.

That was one area they’d definitely not covered. Did his friends know he’d gone to a matchmaker? She’d have to settle for a half-truth lest she embarrass Leo. “A mutual acquaintance introduced us.”

“Interesting.” The other woman nodded, sweeping long locks over her bare shoulders. She curled her lips in a semblance of a smile, which didn’t fool Dannie for a second. Jenna did not like her.

“That’s how Dax and I met, too. Leo introduced us.”

“Oh?” Leo—a matchmaker himself? That was interesting. “I’m sure he was happy to help his friends find each other.”

“You think so? Considering the fact that Leo and I were dating at the time, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

Oh, dear. No wonder the daggers in Jenna’s eyes were so sharp. Dannie groaned inwardly. The dinner reservations had just gotten a whole lot more complicated than whether the table would be big enough.

“I’m sorry. I can’t speak for Leo. If you’re curious about his motives, you’d best ask him. Champagne?” she offered brightly, intending to put some distance between herself and Leo’s ex-girlfriend. At least until she figured out how to navigate the bloody water full of sharks her husband had dropped her into.

“That would be lovely,” Jenna said just as brightly and took Leo’s arm to join in his conversation with Dax, physically blocking Dannie from the group.

In historical novels, they called that the cut direct. In real life, Dannie called it something else entirely, and if she said that many four-letter words out loud, Leo would have a heart attack.

Instead, she went to get Jenna and Leo a glass of champagne.

Really, she understood Jenna’s animosity. She’d be confused, too, if Leo had shuffled her off on a friend and then promptly married someone else. Dannie also had the superior position between them, a point Jenna likely hadn’t missed. At the end of the day, Dannie’s last name was Reynolds and Jenna’s wasn’t.

Now she wondered what had really happened between Jenna and Leo. It was a little uncivilized of Leo not to have warned her. Men. Didn’t he realize what he’d dragged Dannie into?

In reality, he probably hadn’t considered it a problem. And it wasn’t. Their marriage was an arrangement and her emotions weren’t Leo’s primary concern. That put a little steel in her spine. She had a job to do.

When she rejoined the group, Leo shot her a sidelong smile in gratitude for the glass of champagne. The flutters his very private grin set off were enough to forgive him. Almost.

A good wife might choose to forget the whole conversation. She bit her lip.

Then again, a good wife who paid attention to unspoken nuances might also ensure she didn’t mistakenly cause her husband embarrassment. Forewarned was forearmed, and if Leo expected her to chat up his associates, she should know exactly what that association was. Right?

“You used to date Jenna?” she murmured in his ear as Dax engaged his date in their own conversation.

“Briefly.” Leo’s gaze sought out the woman in question, his eyes narrowing and growing a tad frigid. “She told you? I’m surprised she’d be so tactless. And I apologize if I put you in an uncomfortable position.”

He’d leaned in, breath teasing along her cheek as he spoke, and she caught a whiff of something fresh and maybe a little wintry but definitely all male. His hip brushed hers. Heat pooled at the contact and spread, giving a whole new meaning to an uncomfortable position.

She waved off his apology. “Nothing I can’t handle. I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose.”

He’d apologized instead of calling her out for sticking her nose in his business. That was a relief. Walking that line between being a complement to Leo and fading into the background was harder than she’d anticipated. Regardless, she was going to be a star wife. No compromise.

Leo frowned. “We only went out for a little while and obviously it didn’t work out, or I wouldn’t have introduced her to a friend. Jenna wanted more than I could give and Dax pays attention to her. It seemed perfect.”

Oh. Of course. Jenna was the reason Leo needed a wife who wouldn’t expect him to be around—she’d presumed to spend time with a man she liked and grew weary of the “I’m a workaholic, deal with it” speech.

The longing glances Jenna kept throwing Leo’s way made a heck of a lot more sense now. Despite most likely being told in no uncertain terms not to get emotionally involved, Jenna had done it anyway. Only to be cast aside.

It was a sobering reminder. Dannie had a lot to lose if she made the same mistake.

Sobering. But ineffective.

As her husband’s hand came to rest against the small of her back, she couldn’t help but be tremendously encouraged that Leo had cared enough about Jenna to help her find happiness with someone better suited for her. In the kitchen yesterday, he’d expressed genuine interest in ensuring Dannie wasn’t disappointed with their marriage.

Small gestures, but in Dannie’s mind, they added up to something much larger. He had a good heart underneath all that business acumen. And despite his determination to keep her at arm’s length, he needed her to break through the shell he kept around himself.

But how?

* * *

The champagne left a bitter taste in Leo’s mouth.

If he’d known Jenna would deliberately upset Daniella, he’d never have brought his wife within a mile of her.

He should be having a conversation with Miles Bennett, who was about to launch a software product with some good buzz around it. John Hu was on his radar to speak to as well, and there John was by the bar, talking to Gene Ross’s ancient wife. That conversation couldn’t be about anything other than Mrs. Ross’s show poodle or Miami this time of year, and Leo had no qualms about interrupting either.

Several recent investments hadn’t panned out the way he’d hoped. He needed new blood now. Yesterday would have been better.

Instead of the dozen other things he should be doing, he was watching his wife. Out of the corner of his eye, no less, while he pretended to talk to Dax, who pretended he didn’t notice Leo’s fixation.

Daniella dazzled everyone, despite Jenna’s mean-spirited disclosure.

The mechanics of marriage were still new and he hadn’t fully considered the potential ramifications of introducing the two women. A wife was supposed to be less complicated than regular females, not more. Was Daniella uncomfortable being in the same room with Jenna? Or was she taking it in stride like everything else?

Daniella didn’t look upset. She looked like a gift-wrapped present he’d put on his list a month ago and Christmas was still a week away.

That dress. It dipped against her breasts, revealing just enough to be interesting but not enough to be labeled indecent. The zipper in the back called his name. One tug and the wrapping would peel away, revealing a very nice gift indeed. The delicate shoes she wore emphasized her shapely legs and he liked that far more than he wanted to.

Daniella was the most gorgeous woman in the room. And the most interesting, the most poised and the most vivacious. Bar none. And he wasn’t the only one who thought so, instilling in him a quiet sense of pride with every appreciative glance she earned.

In case she was more upset about Jenna than she let on, he kept a close eye on her as she talked to a couple of Reynolds Capital’s partners. No hardship on his part to watch her graceful hands gesture and her pink-stained lips form words. Then she laughed and the dress slipped a tantalizing inch farther down her breasts. And then another inch.

A flash of heat tensed his entire body and tightened his pants uncomfortably.

He swore and Dax stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Which didn’t appear to be as far out of the realm of possibility as it should.

“I need a refill,” Leo explained and waved his empty champagne flute at a passing waiter.

When the waiter returned, he downed the glass in two gulps. It didn’t cool him down. Something needed to change, very quickly.

He glanced at Daniella. She didn’t turn her head, but her eyes swiveled and she met his gaze with a secret smile, as if to say, later.

Or maybe that was his lower half projecting her meaning. The upper half refused to entertain even one little fantasy about later. Intimacy was supposed to be a progression, and abandoning that idea on day two didn’t bode well for Leo’s state of mind.

They hadn’t developed a friendship yet and he was fantasizing about skipping right over that.

The music swelled, signaling the start of the awards ceremony. Daniella moved toward him at the same moment he stepped forward to grasp her arm. They bumped hips and somehow, the button on his jacket caught her dress.

One of Daniella’s nipples popped free of the fabric, searing his vision and sending a surge straight to his groin. She gasped with a feminine squeal of humiliation, hands flying to her chest.

Instantly, Leo whirled her into a snug embrace, hiding her from view. And oh, dear God. His wife’s body aligned with his like flowing honey, clinging sweetly to every groove.

“No one saw,” he murmured into her hair and prayed she wouldn’t take offense to the obvious erection pushing into her abdomen. It wasn’t as though he could step away and compose himself.

The sight of that bare, rosy nipple was emblazoned on his brain and worse, both of her nipples pressed against his chest, raising the temperature in the stuffy ballroom about a hundred degrees.

“Are you all...arranged?” he asked hoarsely.

She was shaking. Or was that him?

“I can’t,” she whispered and her hand worked between their bodies, brushing his erection an ungodly number of times. “The button won’t come loose.”

He nearly groaned. “We’ll have to get to the hall. Somehow. Can you turn?”

“Yes. If you keep your arm around me.”

They did a fair impression of Siamese twins, shuffling as one toward the back of the ballroom, Daniella clutching Leo with one hand and her dress with the other. Which meant her hands were nowhere near his erection—and that was good. One more brush of those manicured nails against him would have produced fireworks better left unlit in public.

Miraculously, the crowd had thinned. The awards presenter droned from the next room. Leo was missing the ceremony but Dax would have to understand.

An eternity later, they reached the hall and Leo hustled Daniella into a deep alcove housing a giant sculpture of a mermaid.

“We’re totally hidden from view. It’s okay,” he said.

She took a half step backward, as far as their tangled clothes would allow.

“My definition of okay and yours must be different.” Head bent, she studiously fingered the threads holding his button hostage until they finally came apart. “I’m sorry, Leo. You must be mortified.”

Her head was still down, as if she didn’t want to look at him.

“Me?” He tipped her chin up with a loosely fisted hand. Her cheeks were on fire. “You’re the one who has a reason to be mortified. I can’t imagine how you must feel. First I force you to make nice to Jenna and then almost rip off your dress. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she countered fiercely. “This dress doesn’t fit quite right. I shouldn’t have worn it.”

Five minutes ago, he’d have agreed. If she’d dressed a little more matronly, he might be having that conversation with John Hu right now. Except the alternative—being wedged into a secluded alcove with his wife—suddenly didn’t seem so terrible. “That dress fits you perfectly.”

She shook her head as she twisted the waistline back into place. “All my clothes have to be altered. I know that. But I didn’t have this one done. Stupid. I should have thought about the consequences. My job is to make you look good, not embarrass you in public. I’m sorry. I’m not making a very good first impression.”

That’s what she was worried about? That she’d messed up and displeased him? A weight settled onto his chest. Did she think he was that concerned about their agreement?

Obviously so.

“On the contrary, you’ve made a great impression. Exactly as I expected. I watched you with my business associates. They liked you.” She’d charmed them easily and he could already envision her doing the same at future events. Daniella was amazing, through and through.

“Really?” The disbelief in her voice settled that weight a little deeper. She seemed so disheartened by what was such a small blip in the evening.

Daniella was his wife, not a casual date he might or might not see again. The very act of making her his wife changed everything. He wanted her to be happy, which he hadn’t planned, could never have predicted. Not only did he want her to be happy, he’d discovered a healthy drive to care for her and ensure her security. He wanted her to know she could depend on him, always.

Problem being, of course, that his experience with serious relationships started and ended with the woman in front of him.

He nodded, scouting for a way to put a smile back on her face. “If nothing else, you can take solace in the fact that your wardrobe malfunction didn’t take place on national TV.”

She laughed, as he’d intended. The resurrection of his hard-on, he hadn’t. But who could blame him? Her laugh curled through him like fine wine and came coupled with the distinct memory of her beautiful breast.

The secluded alcove grew close and heavy with awareness as she locked on to his gaze. Her irises warmed. “Thank you for rescuing me. It was very chivalrous.”

The back of his neck heated at the adoration in her eyes. He felt like a fake. There wasn’t a romantic bone in his body. “I wouldn’t have abandoned you.”

“Your button.” Without breaking eye contact, she touched it with her fingertips. “It’s loose.”

“No problem.” He swallowed and his throat was on fire. Everything was on fire. “I have another one.”

Slim eyebrows arched as she cocked her head. Loose tendrils of dark brown hair fell against her cheeks and he barely resisted an urge to tuck them back for her. And as a treat for himself. The shiny, slightly wavy locks would be soft against his fingers.

“Should we rejoin the party?” she asked in an incredible show of courage. Not many people would walk back into a room where they’d performed a free peep show. His admiration for her swelled. “As long as I don’t move around too much, I should stay tucked away.”

His gaze dropped to her cleavage automatically. She was quite tucked away, but the promise of what he knew lay beneath the fabric teased him. How easily he could thumb down that dress and run the pads across those taut nipples. No effort required at all. No one could see them back here behind the sculpture.

He sucked in a hot breath.

“Leo,” she murmured and slid lithe fingers along his lapels, straightening them as she traveled south.

“Hmm?” She was so close he could see golden flecks in her eyes. Raw energy radiated from her, wrapping around him in a heated veil.

“The party?” Her lips met on the last syllable and he recalled how they’d sparked against his when he’d kissed her at their wedding ceremony.

This was like a first date, wasn’t it? He’d kissed women on dates, lots of times. It might even be considered expected. A major disappointment if he didn’t do it.

Would kissing her be as hot the second time? Hotter?

His curiosity would only be satisfied one way.

“We should go back. Shouldn’t we?” she asked. But she stood there, frozen, peeking up from beneath her lashes coyly, as if she could read the intent in his eyes.

Yes. They should go back. His body strained toward her, desperate to be closer.

The scent of strawberries wafted to him on a sensuous cloud as she swayed into his space. Or maybe he was the one who moved.

Like honey, he thought as their bodies met. Their lips touched hesitantly, then firmly, deliberately, and his mind pushed out everything except the sizzle of flesh on flesh.

His wife’s mouth opened under his and he swept her deep into his embrace as he kissed her. His back hit the wall but he scarcely noticed as Daniella came alive, hands in his hair, her mouth strong and ferocious against his.

Hunger thundered through his veins. His hips circled against hers involuntarily, uncontrollably as he sought to ease the ache she’d inflamed. With one hand, he enveloped her neck and pushed, tipping her head back so he could open her wider, then tentatively stroked her tongue with his.

She stroked him back, deeper, harder. Leo groaned against her mouth. She kissed like a horny teenager’s fantasy. Deep. Wet. Carnal.

Those perfect breasts haunted him. Touch them, his libido begged. The temptation was almost too much to bear, but he feared if he gave in to it, he might never surface.

Home. They could go home. Right now. They lived together, after all.

If he took her home, he could strip that dress away to taste every peak and valley of his wife’s body. Especially the parts he hadn’t yet seen but could feel easily through the silky drape of cloth over her luscious skin.

The kiss deepened, heating further, enflaming his skin. Desire screamed through his body. He’d never kissed a woman on a date quite like this. Hell, he’d never kissed a woman like this ever, not even in bed.

She was luring him into a dark pit of need and surfacing suddenly wasn’t so appealing.

He trailed openmouthed kisses along her throat and palmed her sexy rear again. Unbelievably, this incredible, stimulating woman was his. She moaned under his touch and her head fell back.

“Leo,” she murmured as he slipped a pin from her fancy done-up hair. “Don’t you need to go back?”

As if she’d thrown a bucket of water over him, his lust-hazed bubble burst. They were in the hallway of a hotel and his wife was reminding him of the importance of circulating at the alumni ceremony.

He pulled back to breathe the cool air of sanity. “I do.”

Her face remained composed, but a storm of desire brewed in her gaze, one he suspected would easily explode again with his touch. She’d been just as turned on as he had.

“Till later, then?” she asked.

Oh, no. That wouldn’t do at all. Focus, Reynolds.

At least four people he must speak with mingled in the ballroom less than a hundred yards away and his wife’s mussed hair and plump, kiss-stung lips alone threatened to steal his composure. If he had to suffer through the rest of the night while anticipating later, nothing of consequence would be accomplished.

You’re weak, the nasty voice of his conscience whispered. And that was the real reason he couldn’t lose his single-mindedness.

If he let himself indulge—in drawing, in a woman, in anything other than the goal—he’d be lost. Look what had just happened with a simple kiss.

He released her and his body cooled a degree or two. It wasn’t enough to erase the imprint of her in his senses. “I apologize. That was inappropriate. Please, take a few moments in the ladies’ room and meet me back in the ballroom. We’ll act as if that never happened.”

Disappointment replaced the desire in her expression and made him feel like a world-class jerk.

“If that’s what you want.”

It was absolutely not what he wanted. But distance was what he needed in order to get a measure of control.

This marriage should be the perfect blend of necessity and convenience. Should be. But the possibility of being friends was already out the window due to the curse of his weaknesses, and it would only get worse the further under his skin she dug.

“This is a business event and I haven’t been treating it like one.”

“Of course.” Her tone had become professional, as it should. Even in this, she remained poised, doing her duty as expected, because she wasn’t weak. She was thoroughly brilliant.

He hated putting up a barrier, but she’d become exactly what he’d suspected she would—a disturbance he couldn’t afford.

But she was also proving to be exactly what he’d hoped. The perfect complement of a wife. She deserved happiness and he’d provide no assurance of security—for either of them—if he took his eye off the success of Reynolds Capital Management for even a moment. His wife would not be forced into the poorhouse because of him, like his father had done to Leo’s mother.

No more digressions. It was too dangerous to kiss her. Or think about her as a friend.

Daniella was back in the employee box. She had to stay there.

How in the world was he going to forget what those strawberry-scented lips could do?