Bought by a Millionaire (8 page)

“Oh, no.” Shannon was already shaking her head. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Please. I wouldn't ask if I weren't desperate and hadn't committed myself to be there. Besides, it's for a good cause. A thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner to raise money for underprivileged children. You do like children, don't you?” he added, knowing she was too much of a soft touch to resist his blatant manipulation.

“I'd rather not,” she continued to protest. “I don't have anything to wear.”

“Not a problem.” Steering with one hand, he dialed Mar
garet back. “Shannon is going to be my date tonight so the sharks won't smell blood in the water. But she needs a dress. Probably shoes and a purse, too.” He turned to Shannon. “Right?”

With her face twisted into an expression of doubt, she gave a reluctant nod.

“What size do you wear?” he asked, repeating Margaret's question in his ear.

“Seven.” She lowered her gaze to her slightly increased waistline. “Or it used to be.”

“She thinks seven, but that might have changed.” He paused while Margaret spoke. “Great. We should be back at the penthouse within the hour.”

After disconnecting for a second time, he said, “Margaret's going to bring some things over for you to try on.”

The twist of her lips told him she still wasn't thrilled with the notion of attending a high-priced charity function with him, and he couldn't say he blamed her. There would be photographers in attendance, and everyone else would be staring and wondering who she was and how she'd managed to wind up as his date for the evening. Little did they know he considered himself the lucky one to have her on his arm.

Flipping on his turn signal, he pulled to the side of the road and shut off the engine. “Would it make you feel better about going tonight if you got to drive the rest of the way home?”

One of her brows went up as she watched him, and the corner of her mouth tugged. “Drive your Mercedes?”

His own lips turned up at her obvious interest in getting behind the wheel of a ninety-thousand-dollar vehicle. “Mmm-hmm.”

Without a word, she unsnapped her safety belt, jumped out
and rounded the hood of the car. He took that to mean they had a deal.

 

Whatever kind of elaborate costume she had to squeeze herself into, whatever crazy, embarrassing things might happen tonight, driving Burke's Mercedes-Benz made it all worth while. My Lord, what a vehicle! She wasn't even a car person, but it was so sleek, so comfortable and drove so smoothly, she couldn't help but be a little awed.

Burke's faith in letting her drive them back into the city impressed her, too. More often than not, she took the bus or El or walked where she needed to go. For all Burke knew, she could have been out of practice enough to wreck his beautiful luxury car.

But she hadn't, and she was still grinning from ear to ear.

When they arrived at his penthouse, Margaret was already inside waiting for them. Boxes littered every available surface of the living room, and garment bags hung from every available hook.

“Margaret, you're a wonder,” Burke told her, pressing a kiss to the older woman's cheek. “I'll be in my room changing into the penguin suit.”

As he passed Shannon, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, too. “Margaret will take good care of you,” he whispered in her ear. “See you in a bit.”

Shannon stood motionless, taking in what looked like the results of an uncontrolled shopping spree. And as Burke's assistant began to remove lids and lower zippers, she became even more amazed.

“Where did you get all of this? And on such short notice.”

“When you work for Burke Ellison Bishop, you can get pretty much anything you want, any time you want. And we'll simply send back whatever you don't use.”

“Even the jewelry?” she asked, spotting a dozen open, velvet-lined display boxes, with beautifully designed pieces and bright gems sparkling within.

“Oh, yes. They're all on loan.” Margaret shot her a sly grin. “In the hopes that Burke might decide to purchase just one of them.”

The assistant drew a long, elegant evening gown from one of the garment bags and held it out to Shannon. “Try this one first. Let me know how it fits and what you do or don't like about it. Then we'll see how you like the others.”

Shannon took the dress, carefully draping folds of feather light satin over her arm and taking almost robotic steps toward her room. She felt like Cinderella forced to dress up and go to the ball by her fairy godmother and the prince.

The dresses were gorgeous, the jewelry dazzling. But they weren't her. She was a cotton and wool and linen kind of girl, with nothing in her closet more expensive than a lavender tea gown she'd been forced to buy for a friend's wedding.

Clipping her hair up and out of the way, she shrugged out of the clothes she'd worn to visit her mother and slithered into the blue sequined gown. It brushed the tops of her bare feet and squeezed her breasts together to create a cavern of shadowed cleavage.

She didn't think Burke would want to attend his charity event with a woman who looked like she'd stuffed a couple of cantaloupes into the top of her dress, but since she couldn't be absolutely sure, she dutifully returned to the living room for Margaret's appraisal.

“Too tight across the bust and a little snug along the waistline. Probably because of your pregnancy. The color is lovely on you, though.” She took down another hanger and handed it over. “Try this one.”

Shannon tried on four more dresses before Margaret made
her final decision and sent Shannon back into her room with matching shoes and clutch purse, necklace and earrings. She applied her own makeup and swept her hair into a style she hoped would look both elegant and professionally done.

Twenty minutes later, she tiptoed down the hall, hoping she looked all right and wouldn't do or say anything to embarrass Burke in front of his friends.

The leftover dresses and accessories had all been packaged up to be returned, and Margaret sat at the kitchen counter, sipping a cup of tea. Burke stood with his back to the room, checking his tie and cummerbund in the mirror hanging above the fireplace. At the clink of Margaret's teacup on its saucer and her surprised gasp, he glanced up, then spun around at the sight of Shannon's reflection.

God in heaven, she looked amazing. Tall and willowy, her dress glittered in the low light of the room. The drape of black material was decorated with miniscule silver beading in the shapes of leaves and vines. Her three-inch heels held a matching design, and fiery red-gold ringlets fell from her crown to frame a beautiful, heart-shaped face.

She took his breath away. Literally. His diaphragm clutched, his lungs trembled within his rib cage, and he wanted to burn the vision of her into his brain like a brand. He tried to speak, but his tongue wouldn't move and his feet felt rooted to the spot.

Margaret, however, didn't seem cursed with the same inability to function. She hopped from her stool and rushed over to Shannon, wrapping her in an enormous, motherly hug. “Oh, my dear, you look absolutely breathtaking. I knew that gown would do the trick.” Wiping a smear of her lipstick from Shannon's cheek, she shot them both a knowing smile and started edging toward the door. “I'll be leaving now. You two have fun.”

The click of the door closing behind her snapped Burke out of his frozen state. He blinked and then met the deep green of Shannon's tentative glance.

“Margaret's right. You're breathtaking,” he said in a low voice. “I just wish I'd been the one to say it first.”

“If you mean it, I'll pretend you did.”

Her fingers moved self-consciously over the individual settings of the diamond necklace circling her long, graceful throat. It and the matching diamond drop earrings were worth half a million dollars. Next to Shannon's perfect porcelain skin, though, they might have been part of a child's plastic play jewelry set.

A spark of awareness arced between them, and he couldn't resist running the back of his hand slowly along the line of her jaw. “I mean it.”

He wondered what she would do if he swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed. To hell with the charity dinner. To hell with anything but making love to Shannon and finally,
finally
putting an end to the torment he'd been suffering since the moment she'd walked into his office two months ago.

They were so close, the ends of his hair dusted her brow and he could feel her breath on his face. He tilted his head, moving in to touch her mouth lightly with his own. But just when he should have been kissing her, his lips met nothing but air.

His eyes popped open to find Shannon leaning away, fingering those diamonds and clearing her throat nervously.

“Shouldn't we be going?” she asked, as though he hadn't been about to kiss her and she hadn't just stomped his ego into the ground.

He let out a disappointed sigh. “Yes, I guess we should.”

But on their way out of the apartment, he couldn't help thinking that when it came to Shannon, he was already gone. Well and truly, way too far
gone.

S
hannon was surprised at how much she enjoyed the evening. When she and Burke had first arrived, stepping out of the limousine to a shower of flashbulbs going off in their faces, she'd thought it the biggest mistake in the world. Once they'd entered the Four Seasons ballroom, however, and Burke had begun introducing her to more people than she would ever be able to remember, she'd started to relax and have fun.

Burke fielded the occasional question about where they'd met or how serious he was about her, and for the most part, people assumed she was yet another of his many conquests. It hurt to be grouped in with his former companions, especially after the kiss they'd shared and the sexual tension vibrating between them before they'd left the apartment. But the truth was, she was less than one of his temporary romantic interests. She was his employee. A woman hired to give him a child.

If anyone at this high-priced affair found out, there would be no end of gossip and media attention. Of course, she didn't look pregnant, thanks to the dress Margaret had chosen. The bodice fell in soft waves of material that masked her growing bustline and drew the eye away from her waist in case anyone might notice that the gown was just a tad snug in that area.

Dinner was delicious, and she thought she'd done a fairly good job of using all the right utensils for each course. They were serving dessert now, and Shannon silently toyed with her tiramisu while Burke charmed the elderly matron on his left with a story about his last stay in Tuscany.

Tuscany,
she thought. He'd been three or four minutes into his story before it had even dawned on Shannon that he was talking about vacationing in Italy.

He was a jet-setter. A wealthy, popular businessman who flew off to exotic locales on a whim.

She was a lower middle-class student, struggling to support her mother and put herself through school. She couldn't even picture Tuscany, or find it on the map of Europe if she tried to form it in her head.

It was embarrassing, even though geography had never been her strong suit. But the fact was, she'd never had a need to know specifically where Tuscany was located, or what type of town it was, because she would never in a million years get the opportunity to travel there.

Her future was much less complicated. She intended to get her degree in early childhood education, find a job teaching kindergarten or first grade, and hopefully save enough to buy a house where she and her mother could live together. It might not sound like much, especially to the people in this room who had paid a thousand dollars each for a seven-course meal and the chance to rub elbows with others of their ilk. But it was her dream, and it would be enough.

Beside her, Burke wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin from his lap, then turned to her with a seductive smile. “Dance with me.”

Startled out of her reverie, she realized she'd been more focused on the curve of his full, attractive mouth than the words coming out of it. “Excuse me?”

He took her hand as he rose to his feet. “Dance with me.”

Setting her napkin on the table beside her empty dessert plate, she followed him through the maze of elegantly appointed tables to the polished oak dance floor. A full orchestra played a light, classic rendition of “I'm In the Mood For Love,” and although she didn't know all the proper steps to this kind of music, she found herself leaning against Burke and simply following his lead.

He held her close, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. They moved in tandem, swaying back and forth as though they were the only couple on the dance floor. The only two people in the room.

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Shannon fought her way through the lull of the music and Burke's soft, possessive hold. She forced her heavy lids open to look him in the eye, and said, “It's the dress.”

One side of his mouth quirked upwards. “It's not the dress. Although that's lovely, too, I'm much more impressed by the woman wearing the dress.”

The first slow song blended into the next as they took another turn around the floor. His splayed hand moved lower on her back, tingling the bare flesh there and shooting sparks of awareness up and down her spine. When he pressed his cheek to hers, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

She rubbed against the slight sandpapery texture, even though she knew he'd shaved just before they left for the evening. Soft to hard, smooth to rough, woman to man. It was
real and right, and she wanted to freeze this moment in time so she could remember it forever.

Burke's voice melted in her ear as he nuzzled her lobe and the patch of neck just beneath. “Let me take you home.”

She didn't pretend to misunderstand. For one thing, she didn't want to. Not anymore.

The orchestra, the atmosphere, Burke's closeness all meshed together to beat down her defenses. She didn't care anymore about propriety or keeping her relationship with Burke distanced and professional. She didn't care about what tomorrow might bring or how many regrets they both might have.

For once, just once, she wanted to follow her heart. She wanted this adventure, with this man.

Nodding her head, she gave a faint grin when Burke muttered, “Thank God,” and began to drag her off the dance floor.

No matter how many people tried to waylay them, he plodded forward, offering polite excuses and making a determined beeline for the street. As soon as he spotted them, Burke's driver—who was milling around outside with the other drivers—went for the limo, and they were inside in minutes.

The door slammed closed, Burke hit the button to raise the privacy partition, and she was in his arms before the car even started to roll away from the curb.

He devoured her mouth, nipping and sucking, thrusting his tongue inside to mate with hers. His broad, long-fingered hands roamed her back, her waist, her arms, her shoulders.

Reclining against the leather upholstery, he brought the whole length of her body to rest atop his. Breasts pressed to chest, stomach pressed to stomach, thigh pressed to thigh. She felt the bulge of his arousal at her hip and reached down to boldly stroke a hand across the front of his tuxedo pants. He groaned, clutching her tighter and pushing his pelvis higher toward her touch.

“Shannon,” he breathed into her mouth. “You're making me crazy.”

No crazier than you make me,
she thought, but held back the words. She didn't want him to know how deep her emotions were running, or how easily she could fall in love with him at any moment. Instead, she bit her lower lip and let her head fall to one side as Burke slipped the strap of her dress off her shoulder and kissed a trail from neck to elbow.

With each pass of his lips, he sucked a patch of skin lightly into his mouth, leaving tiny spots of wetness that turned chill in the night air. A second later, her breast was bare, treated to the same nibbles and bites as the soft underside of her arm. He circled her overly sensitive nipple, flicking the pebbled point with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth.

It was her turn to moan. She twisted her fingers in his hair and held his head steady while he feasted on her breasts.

She didn't notice when the limousine eased to a halt, but Burke must have because he cursed low and foul, then pulled away to rearrange her clothing. Tugging the strap of her gown back over her shoulder, he made sure she was well-covered and smoothed a smudge of lipstick from her lips before giving her a gentle smile.

“All right?”

All right?
She was anything but all right. Her body hummed like a well-strung harp, her insides felt as though they'd been simmering over a low heat for hours, and her brain refused to function.

But she nodded, because it was the response she thought he expected. It was small consolation that he looked equally dazed, and she reached out to return the favor of wiping a smear of shimmering bronze from his mouth, too.

The door opened as she was lowering her arm, and Burke stepped out, then turned to offer his hand. With a nod to the
driver, he led her a short distance through the underground garage to the elevator that would take them directly to his penthouse apartment.

As soon as the heavy metal doors whooshed shut, he spun on his heel and pinned her against the back wall. His kiss sent every brain cell that had begun to operate again into full retreat. The muscles and tendons near her kneecaps went weak as butter, and she gripped his shoulders to keep from sliding into a puddle on the floor.

When the elevator doors opened in front of his penthouse, he scooped her into his arms and carried her inside without ever breaking the kiss. He kicked the door closed with his foot, then headed for his bedroom at the back of the apartment, not stopping until his shins bumped the edge of the king-size mattress.

He laid her down as gently as a baby, brushing loose strands of hair from her face before stepping back to shrug out of his tuxedo jacket. The bow tie and cummerbund followed, and then his hands moved to the buttons of his dress shirt. One by one, they slipped through their holes, giving Shannon a glimpse of smooth skin and flat male nipples.

The breath caught in her lungs as the shirt fell to the floor and he reached for the waistband of his pants. She thought she should probably be undressing, too, but couldn't seem to move. She was riveted in place by his spectacular beauty and the stunning knowledge that this man actually wanted her.
Her.
Plain, simple, unpretentious Shannon Moriarty.

Kicking off his shoes, he joined her on the bed, propping himself on an elbow to look down at her.

She swallowed nervously, not sure of what to do or say next. This wasn't exactly a typical occurrence for her, being in bed with a man. Especially one as handsome and rich as Burke.

What if he expected her to be savvy and practiced?

With his free hand, he started to pull the pins from her up-swept hair, holding her gaze the entire time. “Do you want to stop?” he asked softly. “I'll have to stand under a cold shower for weeks if you say yes, but I don't want you doing anything you're not ready for. We don't have to go any farther.”

Just that small bit of understanding and willingness to stop if she wanted relieved some of the tension coiled inside her. She shook her head, loving the feel of his fingers combing through her hair as he brought it to fall around her head and shoulders.

“No, I want to. I just…I don't do this very often.”

“It's all right. I don't do it as often as you might imagine, either. That's what makes this all the more special.”

He leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her nose. She felt the pads of his fingers feathering lightly along her arm, and then to the small of her back. The zipper of her gown opened with a series of soft snicks. In a skilled move, he released the shoulder straps and skimmed the entire garment down and off her body.

Because the dress had been practically backless, she wasn't wearing a bra, and her arms came up automatically to hide her nakedness. The panties Margaret had bought to go with the gown weren't much better; just a narrow patch of black lace with silver butterflies sewn on, held together by a thin strip of elastic band. But at least they covered the pertinent parts.

Burke's broad hands covered hers. His dark coloring contrasted sharply with her milky white skin, and sent a clutch of awareness to the bottom of her stomach. He was so large, so masculine, while she felt small and delicate. Rather than intimidating her, however, it made her feel comforted. Safe.

Him man, her woman. She liked that.

“Don't hide,” he breathed, urging her to loosen her hold and let her arms drop to her sides. “You're beautiful. I want to see you.”

She squirmed under his scrutiny, her fingers curling into the bedclothes as he looked his fill.

“They're tender, aren't they?” he asked, brushing the side of his thumb over the tip of one nipple.

With a gasp, she nodded. She didn't know if it was his touch or the mere sound of his voice, but her nipple bunched and contracted almost painfully.

“They're fuller, too, than when we first met.” He grinned wolfishly, rolling her nipple now between two fingers. “I'm a details man. I notice these things.”

His hand cupped her breast for the barest second before moving to her rib cage, across her waist, to the flair of her hip. “I can't wait to see how the rest of your body changes with the pregnancy.”

He fit his palm to the slight swell of her abdomen and left it there while he attended to the rest of her body. He drove her wild with long, torturous kisses, and nips and licks at her heated flesh.

With one hand at her breast, keeping her nipple in a state of constant, almost painful arousal, his other slipped between her legs. She was already wet, and his fingers slid easily along her femininity. Burke made a low, growling sound in his throat as he stroked her delicate folds until she was writhing beneath him.

Every muscle in her body was pulled taut as a bowstring, and she knew that if he did what he was doing for much longer, she would fly apart in his arms without ever knowing what it felt like to have him inside her. She'd waited too long, denied herself too long to let that happen.

“Please,” she breathed, fighting the wave of ecstasy that threatened to crash over her as he brushed her most sensitive spot. “Burke, please. I want you inside me.”

He went still above her, lifting his head and looking down
at her with those intense gray eyes. “That's what I want, too,” he breathed a little unevenly.

Lowering his mouth to cover hers, he kissed her as he settled between her legs and slowly,
slowly
began to slip inside.

Shannon gasped at the exquisite friction of his body sinking into hers. She hadn't been with all that many men, so this making love business was still fairly new to her. And yet she knew, deep down in her soul, that this time was different.