Читать книгу Matched To Mr Right - Kat Cantrell - Страница 16
ОглавлениеBy nine o’clock, the party hummed along in full swing, a success by anyone’s account. Except perhaps Leo’s. In the past hour, he’d said no more than two words to Dannie.
She tried not to let it bother her as she flitted from group to group, ensuring everyone had a full glass of champagne and plenty to talk about. The final guest list had topped out at twenty-five and no one sent their regrets. Chinese box kites hung from the ceiling, artfully strung by the crew she’d hired. Their interesting geometric shapes and whimsical tails provided a splash of color in the otherwise severe living room. A papier-mâché dragon lounged on the buffet table, breathing fire under the fondue pot in carefully timed intervals.
Tommy’s admin had mentioned his love of the Orient and the decorations sprang easily from that. More than one guest had commented how unusual and eye-catching the theme was, but Tommy’s signature on the dotted line was the only praise she needed.
Well, she’d have taken a “You look nice” from Leo. The ankle-length black sequined dress had taken three shopping trips to find and a white-knuckle twenty-four hours to alter. She’d only gotten it back this morning and it looked great on her.
Not that anyone else had noticed.
She threw her shoulders back and smiled at the knot of guests surrounding her, determined to be the hostess Leo expected.
Hyperawareness burned her back on more than one occasion, and she always turned to see Leo’s piercing blue eyes on her and his expression laced with something dangerous.
The bedroom-sharing plan was a disaster. He hated it. That had to be his problem—not that she’d know for sure, because he’d clammed up. Was he waiting until the party was over to give her her walking papers?
Turning her back on Leo and the cryptic bug up his butt, she came face-to-face with Leo’s friend Dax Wakefield. “Enjoying the party?” she asked him brightly.
Not one person in this room was going to guess she had a mess of uncertainty swirling in her stomach.
“Yes, thank you.” Unfailingly polite, Dax nodded, but his tone carried a hint of frost. “The buffet is wonderful.”
Her radar blipped as she took note of the distinct lack of a female on Dax’s arm. A good-looking guy like Dax—if you liked your men slick and polished—was obviously alone by choice. Was he no longer dating Jenna? Or had Leo asked him not to bring her in some misguided protective notion?
“I’m so glad.” She curved her lips graciously and got nothing in response. Maybe he was aloof with everyone. “Congratulations again on the distinguished alumni award. Leo assures me it was well deserved.”
“Thank you.” Not one hair on his perfectly coiffed head moved when he granted her a small nod. “Took me a little longer to achieve than Leo. But our industries are so different.”
What did that mean? There was an undercurrent here she couldn’t put her finger on, but Dax definitely wasn’t warming up to her. Problem alert. Dax and Leo were old friends and a wife was a second-class citizen next to that. Was Dax the genesis of Leo’s silent treatment?
“Well, your media empire is impressive nonetheless. We watch your news channel regularly.” It wasn’t a total lie—Leo had scrutinized stock prices as they scrolled across the bottom of the screen last night as she pretended to sleep after the spelling lesson.
Dax smiled and a chill rocked her shoulders. If Leo wanted people to believe he was a ruthless, cold-blooded businessman, he should take lessons from his friend. That guy exuded take no prisoners.
One of the servers discreetly signaled to get her attention and she pounced on the opportunity to escape. “Will you excuse me? Duty calls.”
“Of course.” Dax immediately turned to one of Leo’s new partners, Miles Bennett, and launched into an impassioned speech about the Cowboys roster and whether they could make it to the Super Bowl this time around.
The server detailed a problem in the kitchen with several broken champagne bottles, which Dannie solved by pulling out Leo’s reserve stash of Meunier & Cie. It was a rosé, but very good and would have to do in a pinch. Most of the guests were men and such a girly drink had definite potential to go over like a lead balloon.
Mental note—next time, buy extra champagne in case of nervous, butterfingered staff.
She poured two glasses of the pink champagne and sought out Tommy Garrett. Something told her he’d take to both an out-of-the-norm drink and being roped into a coconspiracy.
Maybe because of the purple canvas high-tops he’d worn with his tuxedo.
“Tommy.” Grateful she’d caught him alone by the stairs, she handed him a champagne flute. When Leo had introduced them earlier, they’d chatted for a while and she’d immediately seen why her husband liked him. “You look thirsty. Humor me and drink this. Pretend it’s beer.”
A brewery in the Czech Republic exported Tommy’s vice of choice, which she’d gleaned from his admin. But he’d already had two pints and hopefully wouldn’t balk at her plea.
The young man flipped chin-length hair, bleached almost white by the sun, out of his face. “You read my mind. Talking to all these suits has parched me fiercely.”
Half the champagne disappeared into Tommy’s mouth in one round and he didn’t gag. A glance around the room showed her that others weren’t tossing the rosé into the potted plants. Crisis averted.
“Thanks, Mrs. Reynolds.” She shot him a withering glare and he winked. “I mean Dannie. Sorry, I forgot. Beautiful women get me all tongue-tied.”
She laughed. “Does that geek approach actually work?”
“More often than I would have ever imagined. Yet I find myself devoid of promising action this evening.” Tommy sighed dramatically and waggled his brows, leaning in to murmur in her ear. “Wanna see my set of protractors sometime?”
Her grin widened. She really liked him, too, and was almost disappointed he hadn’t worn a hoodie to her fancy party. “Why, Thomas Garrett, you should be ashamed of yourself. Hitting on a married lady.”
“I should be, but I’m totally not. Anyway, I couldn’t pry you away from Leo with a crowbar and my own private island. Could I?” he asked hopefully with a practiced once-over she suspected the coeds fell for hook, line and sinker.
“Not a chance,” she assured him. “I like my men all grown-up. But feel free to keep trying your moves on me. Eventually you’ll become passable at flirting with a woman.”
Tommy clutched his heart in mock pain. “Harsh. I think there might be blood.”
That prickly, hot flash traveled down her back an instant before Leo materialized at her elbow. His palm settled with familiarity into the groove at her waist and she clamped down on the shiver before it tipped him off that such a simple touch could be so affecting. Why had she worn a backless dress?
“Hey, Leo.” Tommy lifted his nearly empty glass in a toast. “Great party. Dannie was telling me how much she likes protractors.”
“Was she, now?” Leo said easily, his voice mellower than the scotch in his highball.
Uh-oh. She’d never heard him speak like that.
Swiping at Tommy with a flustered hand, she glanced up at Leo and nearly flinched at the lethal glint in her husband’s eyes. Directed at her or Tommy? “Protractors. Yes. They get the job done, don’t they? Just like Leo. Think of him as a protractor and Reynolds’s competitor, Moreno Partners, as a ruler. Why not use the right tool for the job from the very beginning?”
Tommy eyed her. “Moreno is pretty straight and narrow in their approach. Maybe that’s what I need.”
Good, he’d picked up on her desperate subject change.
“Oh, no.” Dannie shook her head and prayed Leo’s stiff carriage wasn’t because he didn’t like the way she was sticking her nose in his business with Tommy. This was absolutely what she was here for and she absolutely didn’t want to blow it, especially with Leo in such a strange, unpredictable mood. “Reynolds can help you. Leo’s been doing this far longer than Moreno. He has connections. Expertise. You know Leo has a degree in engineering, too, right?”
Leo’s hand drifted a little lower. His pinky dipped inside her dress and grazed the top edge of her panties. Her brain liquefied into the soles of her sparkly Manolos and she forgot to mention he’d actually double majored in engineering and business.
“Daniella,” Leo murmured. “Perhaps you’d see to Mrs. Ross? She’s wandering around by the double glass doors and I’m afraid she might end up in the pool.”
“Of course.” She smiled at Tommy, then at Leo and went on the trumped-up errand Leo had devised, likely to avoid saying outright in front of a prospective partner that he could handle his own public relations. Which she appreciated.
As she guided Mrs. Ross toward the buffet, she laughed at the sweet old lady’s jokes, but kept an eye on Leo and Tommy. They were still talking near the stairs and Leo’s expression had finally lost that edge she so desperately wanted to understand.
If she’d gone too far with the bedroom-sharing idea, why didn’t he just tell her?
This party was a measure of how effectively she could do her job as Leo’s wife and how well she contributed to his success. Coupled with the high-level tension constantly pulsing between them, her nerves had stretched about as tight as they could without snapping.
* * *
Dannie showed the last guest to the door and spent a long thirty minutes with the auxiliary staff wrapping up postparty details.
Leo was nowhere to be seen.
Around midnight, she finally stumbled to their bedroom with the last bottle of champagne, uncorked, intending to split it with him in celebration of a successful party. Surely Leo shared that opinion. If he didn’t, she really should be told why.
Darkness shrouded the bedroom.
She set the champagne bottle and two glasses on the dresser and crossed to the freestanding Tiffany torchiere lamp in the corner. She snapped it on and bracing against the wall, fingered apart the buckle on one shoe.
“Oh, you should leave those on.” Leo tsked, his voice silky as scotch again.
She whirled. He was lounging on the settee, tie loose and shirt unbuttoned three down. Not that she was counting. “What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”
“Seemed appropriate for my mood.”
That sounded like a warning. She thumbed off the other shoe in case she had to make a run for the door. “Would you like me to turn off the light?”
He contemplated her for a long moment. “Would darkness make it easier for you to pretend I was Tommy Garrett?”
She couldn’t help it. The laugh bubbled out.
It was a straight-from-the-bottle kind of night. Retrieving the champagne from the dresser, she gulped a healthy dose before wiping her mouth with the back of one hand. “Jealousy? That’s so...” Cliché. Well, it seemed like a tell-it-like-it-is night, too. “...cliché, Leo.”
His gaze scraped her from head to toe, darkening as he lingered at the vee of her cleavage. “What should I feel while watching my wife flirt with another man?”
“Gratitude?” she offered. “I was working him for you.”
Leo barked out a laugh. “Shall I call him back, then? See if he’s up for a threesome?”
This was going downhill fast. Not only was he not thrilled with her party, he’d transformed into a possessive husband. “Are you drunk?”
Maybe she should catch up. If she downed the entire bottle of champagne, her husband might make a lot more sense. Or it would dull the coming rejection—which this time would no doubt include an annulment. Alcohol had the potential to make either one more bearable.
“Not nearly drunk enough,” he muttered. Louder, he said, “Since you’re so free with your favors this evening, perhaps you’d do me another one.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Like what?”
“Show me what’s under that dress.”
Okay, not the direction she’d anticipated him going.
More champagne, STAT. She swigged another heady gulp and set the bottle on the dresser. “Why? So you can stake your claim? Jealousy is not a good enough reason to strip for you.”
His mouth quirked. “What would be?”
“Diamonds. A trip to Bora-Bora. A Jaguar.” She ticked them off on her fingers airily. If he was going to be cliché, she could, too. “The typical kept woman baubles.”
“What if I called you...Dannie?” He drew it out and in that silky voice, it swept down her spine and coalesced in her core with heat. “It’s the key to intimacy, isn’t it? You let Tommy call you that. The two of you were very cozy.”
She cursed under her breath. How dare he turn her on while accusing her of dallying with Tommy? “He’s twenty-four, Leo. I’m old enough to be his...older sister. Stop being such a Neanderthal.”
“So that’s your objection to Tommy? His age?” Leo slid off the settee and advanced on her, slowly enough to trip her pulse. “What about Dax? He’s my age. Maybe you’d like him better.”
“What’s this really about?” Boldly, she stared him down as he approached, determined to get past this barrier she sensed he’d thrown up to avoid the real issue—she’d failed at being the wife he needed, on all levels. Somehow. “You’re not threatened by Tommy. Or Dax. You’ve been weird all evening. If you’ve got a problem with me, lay it out. No more smoke and mirrors.”
Only a breath away, he halted, towering over her. Without heels, she wasn’t that much shorter than he was, but his presence—and his dark, intense mood—overwhelmed her.
“You know, I do have a problem with you.” His gaze traveled over her and that’s when she saw the vulnerability he’d hidden behind a mask of false allegations. “You’re still dressed.”
Baffled, she cocked her head and studied him. Hints of what he was so carefully not telling her filtered through. All at once, she realized. He was threatened by other men and conversely paralyzed by his conscience, which had dictated that he wouldn’t touch her until she was okay with what he could give.
His body language was equally conflicted. His fingers curled and uncurled repeatedly, as if he wanted to reach for her but couldn’t.
She was his wife. But not his wife, in the truest sense.
Her heart softened. He wanted something he had no experience with, no vocabulary to define. And she’d been trying to force him into admitting his needs by sharing his bed and denying him the only outlet for his emotions that he understood, assuming her way was best.
Well, this was all new to her, too, but she wasn’t above changing course to give him what he needed.
Their connection was already there. Instead of waiting on some murky criteria she doubted either of them could verbalize, she’d just show him.
That was a good enough reason to strip for him.
Dannie locked her gaze on his and reached up to her nape to unclasp her dress.
* * *
Leo was acting like an ass.
Knowing it didn’t give him any better ability to control it, or to eliminate the constant spike of lust when he caught sight of his wife. Seeing her laugh with another man had generated something ugly and primal inside.
He didn’t like it.
He didn’t like how he’d focused so much energy and attention on this deal with Tommy Garrett and then spent the night sulking in the corner instead of using the opportunity to do his job. His wife had picked up the slack. His wife. Once again, she’d kept the importance of the evening front and center while he wallowed in jealousy.
How dare she be so perfect and imperfect at the same time?
A few more fingers of scotch might have dulled the scent of strawberries. But he doubted it. When he was this close to his wife, nothing could dilute the crushing awareness.
Daniella’s fingers danced across the back of her neck. His gut clenched as he realized what she was doing, but the protest died in his throat as her glittery dress waterfalled off her body, catching at the tips of her breasts for one breathless second. Then it puddled on the floor, baring her to his greedy gaze.
A beautiful, half-nude vision stood before him. Daniella, in all her glory. Fire raged south, ravaging everything in its path to his center, numbing his extremities and nearly bringing him to his knees.
It would be fitting to kneel before a goddess.
“Daniella.” His raw voice scraped at his throat and he cleared it. “What are you doing?”
He knew. She was doing what he’d been pushing her to do. But she was supposed to slap him. Or storm out. Or push him in kind, the way she always did. As long as she punished him for being an ass, any response would have been fine.
Except this. And it was a far more suitable penance to get exactly what he asked for.
“I’m eliminating the problems,” she said, head held high. “All the problems.”
That was impossible, let alone this way. “Put your clothes back on. I’m—”
Actually, he had no clue what he was. Nothing could have prepared him to feel so...ill equipped to be in the same room with a woman who radiated power and sensual energy.
He shut his eyes.
Strip yourself as bare as your body, she’d suggested. But his wife’s simple act of disrobing, of making herself vulnerable, had accomplished that for him, even while he was still fully dressed.
Everything about her touched him in places no one had ever dared tread.
This night was not going to end well. She wanted something he couldn’t allow himself to give her. Once that bottle was uncorked, he’d focus on nothing but Daniella and lose his drive to succeed. Then he’d fail her—and himself—on a whole different level, which he could not accept.
“Leo.” The softness in her voice nearly shattered him. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
He did. God help him, but he couldn’t resist. His gaze sought hers, not the gorgeous bare breasts there for his viewing pleasure. His eyes burned with effort to keep them trained straight ahead.
“I would never—” she emphasized the word with a slash of her hand “—dishonor you with anyone else, let alone a friend or a business partner. I respect you too much. I’m sorry if I behaved in a way that made you question that.”
Her words, sweetly issued and completely sincere, wrenched that hollow place inside. He’d been treating her horribly all night for who knew what reason and she was apologizing. “You didn’t. You were just being a good hostess.”
A very poor depiction of how absolutely stellar a party she’d thrown. She deserved far more than degradation at the hands of her husband. Far more than the absent, unavailable man she’d cleaved to.
“I really hope you think so.” Her expression warmed. “You’re the only man I want. Forever. That’s why I married you.”
The sentiment flowed like warm honey through his chest. This was the kind of romantic nonsense he’d gone to EA International to avoid. But then, wasn’t she describing exactly what he’d asked for? Fidelity and commitment? It just sounded like so much more than that from her mouth, so deep and profound.
What was he supposed to do with that? With her?
“Don’t you want me, too?” she asked, her voice dropping into a seductive whisper that funneled straight to his erection.
“So much more than I should,” he muttered and regretted saying it out loud.
“Then come over here and show me.”
His feet were rooted to the carpet. It wasn’t going to be just sex. Maybe just sex wasn’t possible with someone he’d made his wife.
Regardless, he’d married Daniella, and consummating their relationship meant they were embarking on forever at this very moment.
Part of him strained to dash for the door, to down the rest of the scotch until the unquenchable thirst for Daniella faded from memory. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with the other part that compelled him to accept everything she was offering him, even the alarming nebulous nonphysical things.
“So the touching moratorium is lifted?” he asked. “Or is this the precursor to another round of rules?”
Apparently he wasn’t finished lashing out at her. If he infuriated her enough to leave, they could go back to circling each other and he’d put off finding out exactly how weak he was.
He didn’t want her to leave.
“This is about nothing more than being together. Do whatever feels right to you.” She spread her arms, jutting out her perfectly mounded breasts. His mouth tingled and he imagined he could taste one. “Standing here in nothing other than a tiny thong is turning me into Jell-O. I’d really like it if you’d kiss me now.”
“A thong?” He’d been so focused on her front, the back hadn’t even registered. The feel of silk beneath his pinky when he’d pushed past the fabric at her waist during the party rushed back and he groaned.
Slowly, she half turned and cocked a hip, bare cheek thrust out. “I wore it for you. Hoping you’d pick tonight to make me your wife in more than name only.”
He was so hard he couldn’t breathe. Let alone walk. Or kiss. Neither was he ready to cross that line, to find out how far she’d suck him down the rabbit hole if he gave in to the maelstrom of need.
Her lips curved up in a secret, naughty smile. Palms flat against her waist, she smoothed them downward over the curve of her rear, down her thighs. “If you’re not going to touch me, I’ll just do it myself.”
Provocatively, she teased one of her nipples with an index finger. Her eyes fluttered halfway closed in apparent pleasure and he swore. Enough was enough.
She was serious. No more choices, rules, games or guidelines. She wanted him.
It was too late to address all the lingering questions about the status of their relationship or how this would change it. It was too late to imagine he’d escape, and far too late to pretend he wanted to.
Daniella was going in the lover box. Now.
In one stride, he crossed the space between them and swept her up in his arms. He swallowed her gasp a moment before his lips captured hers. Crushing her against him, he leaped into the carnal desire she’d incited all night. Actually, since that first glimpse of her on the stairs at their wedding. Every moment in between.
Their mouths aligned, opened, fed. Eagerly, she slid her tongue along his, inviting him deeper. He delved willingly, exploring leisurely because this time there’d be no interruptions.
He was going to make Daniella his, once and for all. Then he’d recover his singular concentration and no more deals would slip away as he daydreamed.
The taste of her sang through his veins and instead of weakening him, she gave him strength. Enough strength to pleasure this woman until she cried out with it. Enough to grant her what she’d been begging for. Enough to make love to her all night long.
He’d hold on to that strength, because he’d need it to walk away again in the morning. It was the only outcome he’d allow, to delve into the physical realm without losing himself in it. Just tonight, just once.
Leo broke the kiss long enough to pick her up in his arms. Carefully, he laid her out on the bed and spent a long moment drinking in the panorama of his wife’s gorgeous body. All that divine skin pleaded for his touch, so he indulged himself, running fingertips down her arms, over the peaks and valleys of her torso and all the way down to her siren-red toenails.
He glanced at her face. She was so sensuously lost in pleasure, his pulse nearly doubled instantly.
She shivered.
“Cold?” he asked.
Shaking her head, she got up on her knees and pulled his tie free. “Hot. For you.”
Then she slid off his jacket and went to work on the buttons of his shirt, watching him as she slipped them free.
Finally, she’d completely undressed him. Taking her in his arms, he rolled with her to the middle of the bed and picked up the kiss where they’d left off.
Her lips molded to his and his mind drained as her warm body snugged up against him. They were naked together, finally. Physically, at least.
Almost naked. He skimmed a hand down her spine and fingered the thong. Silky. Sexy. She’d worn it for him. If he’d known that, the party would have been over at about seven-thirty.
Her palm raced across his skin in kind and her touch ignited an urgency he couldn’t allow. He’d take as little pleasure from this as possible. Otherwise he’d never leave the bed. It was a delicate balance, made more complicated by the fact that no matter what she’d said, she still wished for something cataclysmic out of this.
He’d make it as physically cataclysmic as he could. That was the best he could do.
Still deep in her mouth, he yanked off the thong and then explored her torso with tiny openmouthed kisses until he reached her core. There, he licked her with the very tip of his tongue.
“Leo,” she gasped, which only drove his urgency higher.
“You taste like heaven.” He wanted more and took her nub in his mouth to nibble it gently, then harder, laving his tongue against it until she writhed beneath his onslaught.
Mewls deep in her throat attested to her mindless pleasure and then she cried, “More. I’m about to come,” which was so hot it shoved him to the brink.
His erection pulsed and he clamped down, aching with the effort to keep from exploding. He drove a finger into her wet core, then two, and tongued her and she arched up as she clinched around him, shattering into a beautiful climax.
He rose up and tilted her chin to soak up the sated, satisfied glint in her eyes as he gave her a minute to recover. But not too long. When her breathing slowed a bit, he guided her hands upward and curled them around the top edge of the headboard.
If she touched him, he’d lose all his hard-won control.
“Hold on,” he murmured, and she did, so trusting, so eager.
He parted her thighs and slowly pushed into her. Rapture stole across her face, thrilling him. She enveloped him like a vise, squeezing tight. She was amazing, open, wet.
His vision flickered as Daniella swamped his senses.
More. He thrust into her. Again.
Desire built, heavy and thick, and he thumbed her nub, circling it. Heat broke over him and he ached to come but needed her to come first. To prove he wasn’t weak, and that he could still resist her.
“Daniella,” he ground out hoarsely, and she captured his gaze.
He couldn’t break free.
Everything shrank down to this one suspended moment and her bottomless, tender irises ensnared him, encouraging him to just feel. And he did feel it, against his will, but heaviness spread alarmingly fast through his chest, displacing what should be there. Against all odds, she’d wrenched something foreign and indefinable and magnificent from his very depths.
Only one thing could encapsulate it, one word. “Dannie.”
It left his mouth on a broken plea and she answered with a cry, convulsing around him, triggering his release. He poured all his desire, all his confusion—and what he feared might be part of his soul—into her, groaning with sensual gratification he’d never meant to experience.
Daniella had taken his name, taken his body. Taken something primal and physical and turned it into poetry. The awe of it engulfed him, washing through his chest. He wanted to mark every page of her again and again and never stop. And let her do the same to him.
Intellectually, he’d realized long ago that one small taste of her would never be enough. But the actual experience had burst from its neat little box, crushing the sides, eclipsing even his wildest fantasies.
He couldn’t allow himself to indulge like that again. Otherwise his wife would swallow him whole and take every bit of his ambition with her.
