Little White Lies (20 page)

She expected him to set her down on the bed; instead he lowered her feet to the ground, keeping his arms wound firmly around her waist.  Miranda stared at his broad chest, stubbornly refusing to look up at his face.  He didn’t say anything for several minutes.  He simply held her, lightly stroking her back while the untamed jealous rage slowly ebbed, only to be replaced by a dark depression.  She’d thrown away her chances with Jack, totally humiliated herself in front of the Seymours and Claire, and was now wilting like a rose in the hot sun because she was in love with a man who couldn’t wait to leave her for another woman.  How could she have made such a mess of their life?

“I’m sorry,” Holt finally said.

“Sorry for what, being here?”

“No, sweetheart, for what happened back at Seymour.”

Anger swept back through her with a fury.  “You mean for trying to make me jealous and flaunting your desire for Claire?  Don’t worry about it, or me.”  She tried to wriggle free but he only held her tighter.

“Okay, I admit I tried to make you jealous.  I wanted you pea green with it so you would stop this foolishness and admit we belong together.”

“Really,” her laugh was cold.  “You have an amazing way of showing me just how much you care.  You planned all of this, didn’t you?  You wanted me to get so jealous I would hop into bed with you, and when I wouldn’t let you make lo…have sex with me, you decided to punish me.”

Holt drew back his head in surprise.  “Punish you?”

“Yes, by making me follow you and Claire around all afternoon so I could watch you pant over each other.”

Misery lined his face.  “I’m so sorry, Miranda.  I never thought you would be hurt by this.  I only wanted to put some fight into you so you would stop playing it safe and take a chance on me, on us.”

“No, Holt, you want to take me to bed, not hear how I really feel about you.”

“You’re wrong.  I don’t want meaningless sex from you, Miranda. I want to make love to you, to show you how much you mean to me.  And I do want to hear you say it out loud, not because I don’t know how you feel but because I need to know you realize it too.”  He cupped her chin and gently forced her head back.  “Say it, Miranda.  You’re in love with me.”

She stared into his eyes, her heart hammering against her chest.  There was no use denying it.  “Yes,” she whispered, then louder, “yes, I’m in love with you.”  Miranda tore herself from his arms and turned her back on him.  “There, I said it.  And now that you know, you can run like you always do when a woman starts to show any emotion towards you.” 

She stood there, trembling and vulnerable, waiting for the sound of his retreating footsteps but it never came.  When she turned to face him again, Miranda was not only confused by the triumphant smile he wore, but she was shocked to discover he had removed his jacket and tie and was slowly unbuttoning his shirt.  She took a few halting steps backwards, her eyes wide, nostrils flaring at what he obviously had in mind.

“Wh…what are you doing?” she stammered.

“Undressing.” 

He shrugged his shirt off and let it flutter to the ground then kicked off his shoes before closing the distance between them.  Cupping her face in his hands he kissed her, possessing not just her mouth but everything that she was, and for the first time in his life, Holt Devlin allowed a woman to possess him. 

How this little wisp of a woman had gotten in under his radar was beyond him.  She had broad sided him, plain and simple, and she’d done one hell of a good job too because he didn’t even have the will to fight it.  He belonged to her as surely as she belonged to him.  All he had to do was convince her of it before she found out the truth about Jack.

Miranda’s eyes opened slowly, not entirely sure just how long she’d stood there after his mouth left hers.  It couldn’t have been too long, but apparently long enough for him to have stripped her of her jacket and unbutton her blouse.  Warm calloused hands glided down her waist, moved to her back and pried the zipper down on her skirt.  She did nothing to help or hinder him as he deprived her of each piece of clothing until the only thing remaining was the clip in her hair.

Holt loosened the clip and tossed it across the room.  “I hate that thing,” he growled softly, “don’t wear it again.”  Ridding himself of his slacks and boxers, he took her hand and led her to the bed.  “Say it again,” he whispered, easing her back onto the mattress and gently kneeing her thighs apart.

Miranda’s eyes widened, her breath non-existent as he pressed himself into her.  He penetrated her slowly, stretching her inner muscles inch by inch until she had taken the entire length of him inside of her.  This was what she had yearned for, what she’d needed so badly; not just a joining of the bodies, but of heart and mind and soul.  With what little air was left in her lungs, Miranda finally said the words that had been locked in her heart for so long.

 “I love you, Holt, I love you…”

The afternoon merged with the evening and then into the darkness of night, and still Holt couldn’t seem to make himself stop kissing her.  He’d made love to her three times already, explored every inch of her silky skin with his hands and his mouth, and had gloried in the explosive sensations that assaulted his body when she did some very extensive exploring of her own.

But it wasn’t enough.  He needed more.  He wanted to be able to spend his nights making love to Miranda and wake up each morning for the rest of his life to find her curled up beside him.  And he wanted to share each day with her just as they had for the past three years, working together like a well oiled machine, except now he would also demand that a few stolen kisses be allowed to help get him through each day.  Holt slowly drew his head back, irritated that the lack of food and his grumbling stomach were becoming a distraction. 

“As difficult as it is to tear myself away from that delectable mouth of yours, I’m afraid hunger is making it necessary.”

“I could do with a little nourishment myself,” Miranda admitted. 

Holt sat up and threw the covers back.  “Dinner for two coming right up.  I’ll call room service.  Is there anything in particular you’d like me to order?”

Miranda groaned when he got out of bed and flipped the switch on the wall.  Squinting against the sudden burst of light, she pulled the sheet up over her chest and sat up.  “Nothing too heavy, maybe a chicken salad and bread.”

Pulling his slacks on without bothering with his boxers, he started for the living room to hunt down a menu when a glance backwards at Miranda halted him in his tracks.  Her cheeks were flushed, her lips full and pouty from all the hours of amorous kissing, and her hair was a tangled mess.  He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life and just looking at her, knowing she was his, made his heart surge with a love that was so powerful it shook him to the core.

Miranda’s eyes clouded with concern.  “Holt, are you okay?”

“I am now,” he said with a smile then turned and left the room.

She stared at the empty doorway, not quite sure what to make of what he’d said.  She kicked her way out of the tangle of sheets trying not to read too much into it, and padded to the bathroom to relieve herself.  Feeling incredibly disheveled, she took a few minutes to wash her face and run a brush through her hair then pulled on a robe and returned to the bedroom.  Perched on the edge of the bed she cast a quick glance at the clock, absently noting the time then did a double take.  Was it really that late? 

Miranda jumped up, anxiously scouring the room with her eyes.  Where was her blasted cell phone?  Jack would have tried to reach her hours ago and was probably frantic with worry by now.  Guilt clawed at her insides.  What would she say to him?  What possible excuse could she give for not answering his call or at least responding to the numerous messages he was sure to have left?  She couldn’t do it.  She couldn’t call him and pretend everything was normal when she had just spent a good portion of the day and half the night in bed with his brother.

Moving numbly, she searched for several minutes before spotting it on the floor near the bed.  It must have gotten knocked off when she and Holt…no, she shook her head, she couldn’t call Jack while images of Holt making love to her were still so vivid in her mind.  She would just have to text him and hope he wasn’t close enough to hear the ping of the phone alerting him there was a message.  It was the coward’s way out, but right now she felt like one so it seemed only fitting.

Miranda held the phone in her palm then drew in an unsteady breath and scrolled for messages.  To her surprise, and immense relief, there was nothing in voice mail from Jack, although he’d left one text message.  She grimaced when she saw he’d left it only a few minutes ago while she was in the bathroom.  The message was rather brief; an apology for not being able to call and that he would catch her in the morning.  He said he didn’t want to wake her, thus the text message, and that he was going to bed too. 

Miranda frowned at the phone.  Was he saying that to keep her from calling him back?  Something didn’t seem quite right. She had the nagging feeling that maybe Jack had been preoccupied, that he’d been doing with someone else what she had just done with Holt.  Somewhere deep inside a dull ache began to take hold.  It was completely unreasonable to be hurt by the thought he’d cheated on her considering she had just betrayed him too.  Miranda set the phone back on the nightstand with a heavy sigh.  Right or wrong, she had to admit to herself that being with Holt hadn’t changed how she felt about Jack.  She still loved them both.

“Twenty minutes,” Holt announced as he plopped down on the bed beside her.  “We’re lucky the hotel kitchen stays open twenty-four hours a day or we would have to resort to fruit and candy bars.”  He put his arm around her, an uneasiness gripping his chest when her slender shoulders tensed.  “Miranda, honey, what’s wrong?”

She stared at the wall for a minute before deciding it was time to clear the air of everything.  “Did you have a date with Claire tonight?”

He hugged her to his side, chuckling.  “No, and there’s nothing going on between us either.  The only thing I’m guilty of is roping Claire into going along with a crazy scheme to make you jealous.  Jared is an old college buddy of mine and I’ve known Claire almost as long as he has.  And before you ask, she and I have never been romantically or physically involved.  She’s engaged to Jared, the wedding is next month.”

Miranda’s shoulders sagged.  “So they were all in on it; Claire, Jared, and even Edward.  Oh, Holt, how could you?  I’m so embarrassed about the way I acted and I was so…so hostile towards her.”

“Sweetheart, you were
supposed
to feel that way.  I promise you, if they’re upset with anyone over all of this, it’s with me.”

“It’s not going to cost you the deal, is it?”

“No, as a matter of fact, we may cut our trip short.  I just talked to Jared and he said the corporate lawyers would be there on Monday so we can go over the contracts.”

Miranda heaved a sigh of relief.  “I’m glad I didn’t ruin it for you.”

“Ruin it,” he laughed, “baby, you’re the reason Edward agreed to sign them so easily.  He told me what you said back in the boardroom, about respecting me and how he wouldn’t find a better company than Devlin to look after his interests.  He said if I instilled that kind of loyalty in someone like you, he felt confident in giving me his business.”

“I’m really happy for you, Holt.”

His brows drew together.  “You don’t sound happy.”

“Well, there…there is something else we need to talk about.”

He didn’t have to guess what, or more accurately,
who
it was about.  Tilting her head back with his forefinger, Holt sought her lips for a brief, but deeply satisfying kiss. “Listen to me, sweetheart.  Tonight is about us, you and me, and I don’t want anything to spoil it.  Tomorrow is Sunday so Seymour Imports will be closed.  The only thing I have going on is a lunch date with Edward and his wife, then I’ll be free for the rest of the day.  We can talk everything out then, okay?”

“But…”

“Tomorrow,” he said firmly. 

A tap on the door put an end to the conversation, not that he had any intention of letting her voice any more concerns.  It was just as well because she was famished and wanted nothing more than to have a nice relaxing meal with him then climb back into bed and sleep.  She closed her eyes, a warm glow radiating from her chest and winding its way through her entire body at the thought of waking up in Holt’s arms. 

They would make love again in the morning, there was no question of that, and then maybe take a shower together.  Holt was right; there would be time enough for talking tomorrow.  Tonight was about the two of them and no one else.

                        ***

Morning came too soon, and with it a sense of dread that Miranda couldn’t seem to dispel.  Not even the tender way Holt had made love to her or the hard, passionate kiss he’d given her before leaving for his lunch date had relieved the uneasiness.  At first she thought it was the discussion she knew was going to take place as soon as he returned.  Then she thought it was because Jack had made no attempt to call her that morning.  She was afraid he’d figured it out and couldn’t even imagine how hurt he was.  Or how angry.  It wasn’t until she got the call from Brianne that she began to wonder if this feeling she had wasn’t some sort of precognition.