Читать книгу Bedded By The Boss - Jennifer Lewis, Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 12

Four

“Oh, I’m totally fine now that I’ve gotten used to flying,” she’d said. “Really, I’m…” She turned to look out the window. “Oh.”

She sat back in her seat quickly and pressed a hand to her chest. Elan glanced past her and saw the landing lights through the porthole window as the plane banked steadily to the right.

“Goodness, does it always tip to the side like that?” Her voice shook and she licked her lips anxiously.

“Yes, it’s a normal part of the approach.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth and slowly turned her head as the trail of lights twisted under the moving plane. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the seat rest between them and he fought the urge to put his arm around her.

He wanted to warm her, soothe and caress her, soften her and then… Typical male. Her words at the site came back to him and he cursed himself. He’d assured her on her first day at the job that he was anything but typical, and he’d live up to that promise if it killed him.

She was seven years younger than him. She knew little of the world, as evidenced by the fact that she’d never been in a plane. He had a responsibility to himself, and to her, to make sure that nothing happened between them. He had a responsibility to Al Mansur Associates, which needed her sharp mind in its offices more than he needed her soft body in his bed.

The plane banked more sharply, turning in preparation for the final approach, and the twin rows of lights on the ground shone brighter and closer in the darkness. A tiny laugh emerged from her tightened throat. “People always see light coming toward them in their final moments, don’t they?”

Instinctively he slid his hand over hers as those troubling protective instincts fired his neurons without asking permission. Her poor hand was so cold, her fingers gripping the metal armrest with grim determination.

“Don’t worry, I’ve landed here probably a thousand times. This turn is a normal part of the…” His words trailed off as she slumped in her seat.

He immediately unbuckled himself and supported her head. He held her steady as the plane bumped down on the tarmac.

“Sara.” He patted her cheek gently with his fingertips. “Wake up.”

Her skin was ghostly pale, her soft lashes lowered, lips slightly parted.

Her breath was sweet on his face as he leaned into her. He allowed his lips to brush her skin as he whispered her name once again. Her cheek was the color and texture of a delicate rose petal. So soft under his lips, cool.

His memory tormented him with the image of Sara drinking in the aroma of the roses he’d given her in his office.

Those roses were nothing but clutter to him until that moment—dying things that mocked him with his own mortality. But as she enjoyed their subtle perfume and admired their doomed loveliness, he had seen their beauty in a new light.

Lately he could see many things in a new light.

Sara was so unlike any other woman he had met. A bewitching blend of innocence and experience, candor and caution, she knew when to listen and learn, and when to take the reins and go her own way. A plain little thing? If only she were.

She didn’t stir.

His arm brushed against her breast as he shifted position. The nipple tightened under her silky shirt in response to his touch. He sucked in a breath.

“Sara.”

He stroked a strand of her golden hair away from her forehead, soft as fresh-spun silk. His fingers struggled with the urge to bury themselves in the fall of hair on her neck and his lips pulsed at the sight of hers, slightly parted as if waiting for a kiss.

The kiss of life?

She is breathing, fool. His urge to settle his mouth over hers had nothing to do with medical exigency.

Elan wheeled around as he heard the door to the cabin open.

“I hope the flight was satisfactory, sir. Good Lord, is she asleep?”

“She’s fainted.”

“But she’s breathing?”

Elan nodded as the pilot strode across the cabin and leaned over Sara. His gut tightened as he watched the other man bend low over her body, close enough to enjoy her scent.

“She’ll be fine.” The aggression in his voice surprised him and caused the pilot to step back. “I shall carry her.”

He took perverse pleasure in bumping the pilot roughly out of his path as he reached for her. He shoved his arms underneath her, steeling himself against the pleasure of touching her.

But no steel could withstand the torturous burden of longing that rocked him as her slender body fell against his.

“Sara.” He uttered her name as a talisman against the forbidden desire that roiled in his belly. It must be a crime of some magnitude to lust after a woman who wasn’t even awake.

Her eyelids fluttered. His heart constricted at the thought of those jade-and-gold eyes opening to meet his. He leaned his face closer to hers, his mouth almost touching the petal softness of her skin. “Wake up,” he whispered.

Her lips parted and a rush of emotion and sensation shook him, making him glad his feet were firmly planted on the floor. He hugged her closer, fighting the urge to kiss her back to wakefulness.

“Er, Mr. Al Mansur, perhaps I should call an ambulance.” The pilot’s voice forced its way into his ears from a million miles away.

“That will not be necessary.” Elan spat the words at him, irritated at the interruption. He wanted to watch his sleeping beauty awaken.

Sara’s golden lashes fluttered again and her eyes sprang open. He felt his face crease into a broad smile as she looked at him in astonishment.

“What the…?” Suddenly her eyes were wide with fear and she kicked and struggled in his grasp. He wrestled to hold her still, not sure why, but enjoying it all the same.

“Put me down!” She writhed like a tiger cub and a huge chuckle welled up inside him and burst out as he lowered her to her feet.

“Gladly, madam.”

She fussed over rearranging her suit and tucking her hair behind her ears. She looked around, obviously trying to get her bearings. “What are you grinning at?” The fire flashed in her eyes.

“I’m glad to see you awakened. And fiery as ever.” He chuckled again.

She glanced quickly around the cabin. “We’ve landed.”

“We have indeed,” he said with mock gravitas. He could not help but enjoy her confusion. Feet planted apart, she stood poised to take on a host of attackers. He was almost tempted to throw a shadow punch and watch her spring at him like a tigress.

The pilot had opened the exterior door. “Perhaps we should help the young lady down the stairs. She may still be light-headed after her fainting spell.”

“Yes, would you please carry our bags?” With one swift step Elan swept Sara off her feet and into his arms. He was unable to suppress another grin as she twisted and wriggled, struggling to free herself from his grip.

“Put me down! I can walk just fine.”

“We’ll take no chances. Your unconsciousness may have aftereffects. I’ll carry you to the ground as a safety precaution.”

“This is ridiculous!”

Sara bucked against him, trying to loosen his grasp. He half expected her to bite him. He merely tightened his arms around her.

“Don’t fight me. I’ll put you down when we reach the ground,” he reiterated. The throaty rasp of his voice surprised him. She gave him one last jab in the ribs with her elbow, which served only to widen his smile.

She jerked her head back to look him in the face. “Stop smirking!”

“Pardon me. I’m simply glad to see you alive and…kicking again.” He bit back another chuckle.

Sara’s lovely face creased into a frown. Somehow it tickled his funny bone more that she couldn’t see the humor in the situation.

Her breath came in quick gasps and his blood surged along with hers as her heart pounded against his chest. Her eyelashes flickered against the harsh spotlight illuminating their descent to the ground. He knew she was shaken by what had happened, and that only fired the protective instincts tightening his arms around her slender body.

Slender, yet substantial. Muscled, taut, the body of a woman who knew how to fight for what she wanted.

And at that moment he knew far too well what he wanted. He was glad the blackness of the night hid the evidence of his desire.

Why on earth was she struggling in such a childish fashion? She could tell he found her resistance entertaining.

His arms had closed around her like steel bands, lifting her from the ground against her will. The urge to resist was instinctive, but hopeless against the solid mass of muscle that was Elan. How on earth a businessman came to be built like an ancient Olympian, she could not begin to imagine.

As she kicked and wriggled, his arms simply tightened more firmly around her in an embrace that clearly demonstrated his superior strength. Heat gathered low in her belly as the hard muscles of his torso crushed against her. His broad hands supported her with an ease that made her feel ridiculously feminine, and she struggled not to enjoy the odd primal pleasure of being gathered and held by such a powerful man.

At the bottom of the stairs he released her and settled her carefully on her feet. She stumbled back, burning hot, her heart slamming against her ribs, her limbs weak.

She was ready to get down on her knees and kiss the blacktop as she recalled the sudden rush of terror that had deprived her of her senses as the plane plunged toward the dark runway.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She forced out the lie.

“Can you walk to the car, or would you like me to carry you?” His throaty voice sounded deeper than usual.

Carry me.

“I can walk.” Her voice emerged as a squeak.

She concentrated on putting one wobbly leg in front of the other as Elan took their briefcases from the pilot and strode to his long black sedan. He flung their bags in the back and helped her into the passenger seat before bidding the pilot good-night. Then he settled in behind the wheel and loosened his tie.

“Your address.”

“What?”

“Where do you live? I need to drive you home. Unless you plan on walking.”

“Oh, of course. Five-fifty Railroad Avenue. You take a right off Main.” She wondered what Elan would think of her rather dingy apartment building. The salary he paid could buy her a nice house, but she had other financial obligations. Last week she’d made the first significant payments on her college loans and on her mother’s gargantuan hospital bill, and that was a far greater concern than any luxury dwelling.

He drove away from the airport, silent. The dark roads were deserted, the moon dimmed by wispy clouds. Sara gasped as he braked hard.

“A coyote.”

She saw the flash of reflective eyes in the headlights as the nocturnal creature studied them for a second before slinking off into the desert.

“Wow. That scared me.”

“I’m sure the animal’s fear was greater than yours. The twin moons of our headlights sweeping though the desert must be an alarming sight for the night creatures.”

“I know how they feel. Apparently I haven’t evolved along with the rest of Western civilization because my body didn’t take too kindly to flying through the air. I’m sorry to cause such a scene at both ends of the trip.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He turned to her and his warm smile made her suck in an unexpected breath.

Stop it, Sara!

Even the gentle pressure of her seat belt made her recall—with a harrowing mix of remorse and pleasure—the far more insistent pressure of Elan’s arms around her.

He’d removed his jacket to drive and his sleeves were rolled up. One big hand gripped the wheel, holding it steady as they ate up the long, straight road through the empty desert.

“I’m hungry,” he announced, as they entered the neon-lit oasis of the town.

“Me, too.” In more ways than one.

“Let’s pick up something to eat. What would you like?”

“I don’t know the restaurants. I haven’t bought takeout since I’ve been here.” Trying too hard to squirrel away every penny.

“The fried chicken is good. And the food at the Mexican place is always fresh.”

Sara turned to look at Elan, who studied the neon signs with keen interest. Somehow it shocked her that he would eat takeout fried chicken like a regular person.

“Whatever you prefer.”

“I believe I prefer steak fajitas.” He turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

“Sounds good.”

Yikes. As he pulled up she could see it was a drive-through. Did this mean she should invite him into her apartment to eat it? Or would he expect to drop her off with her dinner and return home to eat his?

Probably the latter.

He picked up their food at the drive-through window and handed it to Sara. Lord, she was hungry. The zesty aroma of grilled steak and onions filled the car and made her stomach growl. He chuckled.

“Your hunger is getting the better of you.”

Don’t I know it? She shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable as she watched his broad hand settle over the gear shift and push it into Drive. She resisted the urge to fan herself or turn the air-conditioning on full as they pulled back onto the road.

“We must eat immediately. And I know just the spot.” He sped through the town and back out into the desert.

Outside town he took a sharp turn toward the mountains. Shrubs and boulders along the roadside cast eerie shadows in the headlights. The road disintegrated into a dirt track as they climbed up toward the veiled moon and stars.

After only a few minutes he stopped the car and climbed out. Sara gingerly opened the door and lowered a foot onto the sandy ground of the dark desert. A match flared and she followed its glow to Elan. He’d opened the trunk and now lit a small fire a few yards from the car.

“What are you using for kindling?”

“Mesquite wood. I keep some in the trunk. The fire will keep animals from joining us for dinner.”

Okay.

He spread a blanket on the ground while Sara retrieved their food and drinks from the car. The night was pleasantly warm and the fresh mountain air invigorated her tired body. The city lights twinkled below them in the wide valley like a carpet of jewels. Sara sighed with pleasure as she kicked off her shoes and settled on the blanket.

She unpacked their food and handed him his soda.

“Do you come here often?”

Oh, like that didn’t sound stupid!

He chuckled. “I do.”

“By yourself?”

Sara! Shove some food in your mouth to stop it flapping!

“Sometimes.” His dark eyes flashed at her in the flickering firelight. The suggestion she read in them made her gut kick like a gun recoil.

It’s all in your imagination!

Quickly she unwrapped her fajita and took a bite. Elan sat cross-legged on the blanket. The glint of gold from his watch caught her eye as he unwrapped his own food. The strangeness of the situation struck her. She was seated by a fire in the midst of an empty desert, with a filthy-rich tycoon she had a massive and embarrassing crush on.

If my friends could see me now.

She sneaked a glance at him. He regarded her with a curious expression. Was he laughing at her? He hadn’t started eating yet, and she hesitated before taking her next bite.

“After many years in England I like to begin a meal with a toast,” he said. The fire flared, illuminating his face, where she read nothing but goodwill. “To you surviving your first plane flight.” He lifted his soda cup and held it in the air. “Cheers.”

She bumped her cup gently against his. “Cheers.” She took a sip of her soda. The cool bubbles tickled her throat. “And my second plane flight. Though I only barely survived that one, didn’t I?”

“Your response to the plane’s descent was rather unexpected.” His eyes twinkled with humor.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” Her face heated as she realized she had no idea how she’d gone from being strapped in her seat to awakening in Elan’s arms.

His dark eyes remained fixed on hers. “It was my pleasure.” His husky voice and challenging stare sent her thoughts tripping over each other as they ran in a number of unseemly directions.

She took another bite of her fajita, trying hard not to think about him bending over her, lips poised mere inches from her own, his hands unbuckling her seat belt, loosening her clothing…

No, her clothing had not been loosened. Earth to Sara!

Elan did not seem the least bit preoccupied with thoughts of their rather eventful journey as he ploughed through three entrées with impressive gusto. She nibbled at her food and sipped her soda while she watched with amazement.

At last he looked up at her and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

“What?” A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth.

“Nothing.”

“Rubbish. Your eyes are smiling. What’s so amusing?”

“I’ve never seen anyone eat so much.”

“I’m a man of prodigious appetites.” He looked at her steadily, his head cocked.

I can imagine.

His lips twitched slightly, as if anticipating something other than eating. Sara suppressed a little shiver as her imagination started to work overtime.

“And we missed lunch today.” His mouth creased into a smile. The flickering firelight danced over his proud features and made Sara’s insides churn in a most disturbing way.

“Oh, yes, you’re right. No lunch.” She hadn’t even noticed. Food was the last thing on her mind when Elan was around.

“I’ve been starving for hours.”

Me, too.

He leaned back, braced himself on one powerful arm, and rested a hand on his belly. A belly as firm and flat as the desert floor, hidden by his white shirt. She knew exactly how hard it was since she’d been crushed against it only half an hour ago.

His hand was silhouetted against the pale cloth of his shirt, long fingers splayed. It was a hand that looked as though it could cradle the world in its palm. She could still feel his fingers on her flesh as if the heat of them had seared through her clothing and left a smoking imprint on her skin.

The fire sputtered and dimmed. Elan lifted himself and leaned across the blanket, reached past her to rearrange the mesquite strips. He knelt and rested his weight on one powerful arm—like a tiger ready to pounce—as he tended the blaze with one hand.

She struggled to keep her breathing inaudible as his torso almost brushed against her.

He blew on the flames and they flared. He pulled back and knelt beside her.

“This mesquite does not burn as steadily as camel dung.” A wry smile curved his lips as he surveyed her with hooded eyes. She let out a laugh, glad of an excuse for a release.

“I guess it’s not easy to find things to burn in the desert.”

“You learn to make the most of what’s at hand.”

“Did you actually grow up in the desert?”

“Yes.” He looked back into the fire. “We had a home in Muscat, the capital city, but my father usually went there on business alone.”

“Do you miss your country?”

“Sometimes.” He looked at her and an odd expression crossed his face. “It’s a strange confession for me to admit that.”

“Why?”

“I’ve lived here for many years. I left Oman at age twenty-one under circumstances that made me wish never to return.” Hooded eyes gazed at the fire as his quiet, controlled voice mingled with the crackling flames. “I’m accustomed to a life of exile.”

“Don’t you miss your family?”

“My parents are dead.” A flicker of emotion passed over his features and Sara battled the urge to ask more about them. It wasn’t her place.

“Do you have siblings?” She couldn’t imagine growing up without the companionship of her brothers and sisters. While her parents sniped at each other and tore each other down, her siblings had carried her through. She was the youngest and they’d brought her up to be the woman she was today.

Each of them had given up opportunities to help support the family and raise her after their dad had died. While they all wanted to help, she and her brother Derek were the only ones with enough income to make a serious dent in the debts from their mom’s cancer treatments, and Derek had given up so much for Sara already. It was her turn to give back, and she’d better remember that when she was tempted away from the path of reason.

“I have two brothers.” Elan glanced up from the fire, his eyes black, unreadable in the darkness. “I barely know them now.”

The sadness in his voice clutched at her. He turned his head to look back at the fire and the flames danced over the hard edges of his profile.

“What are their names? Do they still live in Oman?” She wanted to draw him out, to learn more about him. But as his eyes met hers in surprise, her simple questions sounded like unseemly prying. Her stomach tightened. Once again she’d overstepped her bounds.

He looked at her for a moment, an oddly vulnerable expression in his eyes.

“My younger brother Quasar is a financier in New York. He’s wild, the baby of the family. He was always getting into scrapes as a kid—challenging me to races on our father’s priceless camels, hiding insects in the women’s robes to make them scream.” A smile flickered across his mouth. “He’s still up to his crazy tricks, though now I read about them in the papers.” His expression turned wistful, then serious as he leaned forward to tend the fire. “I’d like to see more of him, but we’re both busy.”

He brushed against her as he reached across the blanket and she sucked in a breath as a shiver of awareness fired her nerves. Sparks leapt as he blew softly on the wood. Sara struggled to pour sand on the sparks that crackled inside her as the tang of his alluringly male scent assaulted her in the night air, an exotic blend of soap, clean sweat, horses and expensive wool.

She wrenched her eyes from the powerful forearm revealed by his rolled-up shirtsleeve. Elan seemed mercifully unaware of the thrall he held her in as he settled back on the blanket.

“My older brother Salim took over from my father when he died.”

“In the family business?”

“Yes.” He wiped a hand across his mouth and looked out into the darkness. “I suspect he would rather have remained in America.” He glanced at her. “He came here for college—we all did. But he has a strong sense of duty and is not one to shirk his responsibilities. He’s a good man, and again, a busy one. I grew used to being away from my family while I was in boarding school.”

“Your brothers weren’t sent to the same school?”

“No. Quasar went to school in Europe, Salim had a private tutor at home.” Once again he leaned forward and blew on the fire, his angular features silhouetted against the halo of orange sparks that pierced the darkness.

As he rested the weight of his body on his strong arms she couldn’t help a stray wish that he’d take her and hold her tightly, as he’d done when she fainted.

Get hold of yourself, Sara. You’re just lonely—and your boss’s arms are not the place to seek comfort.

“Does it take long to get used to being away from your family? I miss mine so much.” Her voice cracked. “It’s only been a month, I know, but…” She bit her lip, not wanting to cry. She was tired, emotionally overwrought after the long day.

“You’ve never been away from home before?”

She shook her head. She knew tears shone in her eyes as she looked at him.

The tender look in his eyes almost undid her completely. “I cried every night for a long time,” he said softly. “I felt like a page ripped from a favorite story. A jumble of words and images that no longer made sense without its companions. In my country family is everything. We live very close, eat together, sleep together. To be separated from the people I spent all my days and nights with—I don’t exaggerate when I say it nearly killed me.”

“Oh, gosh.” Tears pricked at her eyes and she shook her head, braced against a surge of emotions threatening to engulf her. “I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been for you. At least for me it was a choice. I left because I wanted to make my own life.”

“I understand.” His low voice curled around her like smoke from the fire, warming her. “I made that choice myself when I left my homeland again as an adult, to settle in America. In some ways it hurts more—you can blame no one but yourself for your isolation.”

He shifted slightly, turned his head to gaze again at the flames. The flickering tongues of light danced over his features, obscuring them. “In time, a scab grows over even a self-inflicted wound.”

But the haunted expression in his eyes belied his words. And in that moment she could see Elan’s loneliness was a torment that would likely never leave him.

On instinct she reached out and touched his forearm. He jerked as if stung and she pulled her hand back but he deftly grabbed it and held it firm.

His eyes burned dark fire as he looked into hers. “Loneliness is the curse of man. Once he leaves his mother’s womb he’s doomed to wander the earth, seeking that comfort he once enjoyed.”

He raised his fingers to her face and she gasped as he cupped her cheek with his hand.

“There is no comfort to be found, only solace.” He said it slowly, his voice hushed.

She parted her lips to reply but no words formed on them. Her thoughts tangled and scattered to the desert wind as Elan’s hot, urgent mouth closed over hers.

Her head tipped back as he leaned into her and seized her in his arms. Her moan escaped into his mouth as her hands flew to his neck.

His arms circled her torso, strong and hard as steel, vibrating with dangerous urgency. She shuddered with the intensity of her own longing, and with fear—of wanting too much, wanting more than could ever be given.

But fear evaporated in the desert air as Elan’s arms embraced her. In his fierce kiss she lost herself and claimed the primal closeness her body and soul ached for.

Her skin hummed beneath her clothes as his hand burrowed under the jacket of her suit, fingertips pressing into the muscle of her back through her thin blouse.

She arched her back, bending like a willow under the force of his touch. They inched closer on the blanket, their bodies drawing together, meeting in new places as the distance between them diminished to nothing. Shoulders met, hips bumped, knees shuffled into each other as they wound their arms around each other, banishing any space that separated them.

Her fingers groped up into his thick hair, pulled him to her as their kiss deepened. He licked the inside of her lips. His hunger echoed through her and she gasped as he sucked her tongue.

His hand beneath her jacket tugged her shirt free from her skirt and slid underneath it. As his fingers touched her nipple through her flimsy bra, she shuddered at the stinging intensity of the sensation. Every nerve in her body sang a high-pitched note of quivering arousal.

Elan eased back on his haunches and pulled her over him until she sat with her legs wrapped around him, hugging him. His tongue teased her lips, licked and sucked, parted them gently, then pulled back. He eased her skirt up over her hips, roved over the fullness of her thighs with broad palms.

His fingers slipped inside her panties and played over her backside, squeezing and testing. Her body opened up to him, soft and warm and wet, wanting him. She pushed her breasts against his chest, her nipples straining for contact with the hard muscle.

And, oh, how she wanted him. Her skin smoked under his touch, her blood heated, her whole body burned to be consumed in his fire.

He jerked his head back and licked the outside of her lips with exquisite gentleness. Then he shoved his tongue deep into her mouth with deft and daring ease. Her body bucked at the suggestion and a soft groan escaped her.

She buried her face in his neck, inhaled the intoxicating feral scent of his skin. She cupped his face with her hands, let her fingers explore the hard edges of his jaw, enjoy the cut of his cheekbones, rove into the softness of his hair.

Elan.

Elan!

What on earth was she doing?

She yanked her head back and forced her eyes open, her body literally shuddering with desire as she struggled to regain control.

His eyes opened slowly and the flickering firelight danced in their black depths.

“I want you, Sara. And I know our need for each other is mutual.” The low rumble of his voice was a distant earthquake that shook her and crumbled any remnants of reason.

“Yes.”