Married To The Boss (8 page)

But R.J. had never seemed to realize it.

Megan had known for some time how Dana felt, though Dana didn't go about sharing that news with just anyone. But the people who knew her well could tell; it was there in the way she looked at R.J., the extreme effort she put out to be totally professional with him at all times. Like a drunk who carefully enunciates in an effort not to give himself away.

The horrid scandal with the baby had been hardest on R.J., and Megan couldn't help worrying about her son. Maybe, just maybe, Dana would be able to save him.

She tilted her head, smiling at them both. “I'm still amazed at how sudden this has been. Honestly, I'd suspected all along there might be more to your relationship than mere business, especially the way Dana has always been able to read you and manage your nasty temper. But marriage?”

Dana blinked, as if surprised by Megan's words, then she blushed. Megan's speculation doubled—and so did her satisfaction. She'd be willing to bet her son had met his match. “I swear, R.J.,” she added, deliberately teasing, “I never thought to live to see the day. Dana must be a miracle worker.”

Dana thought about sinking beneath the limo seat and hiding. Did Megan know what was going on? Had R.J. told her, despite his assurance that no one would know?

R.J. merely chuckled while Dana's face grew hot. He was sitting so close beside her in the plush seat,
his hard thigh lying alongside her own, his muscled left arm draped around her shoulders.

He tugged her close, almost making her spill her champagne with clumsy nervousness. “There's not another woman in the world I'd have married.”

“Then I'm doubly glad to have Dana around,” his mother replied.

Dana had a horrible suspicion that they'd both been telling the truth. R.J. had told her many times that he wouldn't have propositioned any other woman, and Megan had never made a secret of her affection. Dana knew Megan liked her, and the feeling was well returned. R.J.'s mother was so different from her own mother, so lively and filled with laughter.

She shook off the disturbing comparison. The last thing she wanted to think about right now was her mother and her lifelong disapproval of her only daughter. But at the same time, Dana hated duping Megan. The woman deserved better from them both.

“Drake,” R.J. said, “Next to the champagne there are some gifts I picked up for everyone. Would you pass them over to me, please?”

Surprised, Drake glanced around and located the tray of small packages. He handed it to R.J. with a grin. “I think I like this best man business.”

R.J. laughed. “Then by all means, you should go first. Here, this one is for you.” Drake took the package, and R.J. turned to the others. “Mother and Hope.”

Drake opened his gift without hesitation, then
whistled under his breath at the diamond tie clip. “Very nice! Thank you.”

“Oh my!” Hope exclaimed when she opened her gift. “R.J., thank you, it's lovely.” She held the small gold charm bracelet up for everyone to see. The charm, a golden rose, had a diamond set in the very center.

Megan shook her head. “You are outrageous, R.J. Now, let's see what you got me—oh, goodness. It's lovely, son.” She lifted out the elegant diamond stick pin for everyone to see.

R.J. still held one box, and he pressed it into Dana's hand. “A wedding gift, sweetheart.”

Dana swallowed nervously. This entire day seemed magical, and if any part of it had been real she'd be the happiest woman alive. Instead, she felt slightly hollow, as if she herself was a sham.

But she was also filled with expectation for the coming night. Conflicting, volatile emotions that made her feel totally off balance.

Her fingers shook horribly as she tore away the silver tissue paper. When she hesitated, R.J. sighed and took the long velvet box from her and carefully opened the hinged top so that Dana could see inside.

This time, the tears almost got her as she glimpsed the emerald bracelet. With a gasp, she launched herself at R.J., making him laugh and gather her close. Likely he assumed it was the costliness of the gift that had so pleased her, but her response had nothing to do with money, and his next words made her chest tighten with the effort to choke back her tears.

To the onlookers R.J. said, “I noticed earlier in the week that Dana looked very fine in emeralds. The color suits her. They perfectly match her eyes.”

He didn't think she was too plain to wear such extravagant jewelry.

Dana continued to hide against his shoulder, then she got control of herself and pushed away. She would not continue acting like a complete ninny. One tear slipped down her cheek when she blinked.

Drake gallantly handed her a hanky, which made everyone chuckle again. “I'm sorry,” Dana said as R.J. took the hanky from her and tenderly dried her eyes. “I don't know why I'm acting so absurd today—”

“Women are supposed to cry at weddings, silly, even their own!” Hope assured her, then dabbed at her own eyes.

Dana lifted the bracelet from the box. “This is so…so beautiful.” She turned to R.J. “Will you help me put it on?”

He touched his mouth to hers in the lightest of kisses, but the emotional impact on Dana was almost more devastating than his blatant performance at the altar. She mustered a shaky smile, which he returned, then he deftly hooked the bracelet around her wrist. Unlike the pendant and ring, which each boasted a single emerald, the bracelet was a multitude of perfect square stones hooked together with gold links. Surprisingly, it wasn't heavy or too ostentatious, and it complemented the other pieces perfectly.

Dana met his warm gaze. “I didn't get you any
thing.” Given his reasons for marrying her, a gift had seemed out of place.

“You married me, sweetheart. Believe me, that's all I need.”

Hope and Megan positively cooed, but Dana, determined to be more herself, snorted good-naturedly and poked him in the ribs. “You don't do humble worth a damn, R.J.”

R.J. laughed and gave her another hug. Dana was stunned by how much physical affection he was showing her, but she assumed it was expected from a devoted groom on his wedding day.

“You may not be humble,” Drake remarked as he surveyed his tie clip, “but you sure as hell know how to do it up right, don't you?”

“Small gestures, that's all. Dana and I appreciate the show of support, especially in light of all that's going on right now.”

Hope leaned forward to touch R.J.'s arm. “That mess has nothing to do with you, R.J. We know that.”

Drake shook his head. “It is a mess, though, isn't it? Who the hell could have abandoned the baby? And that damn ‘Tattle Today' broad. She drives me nuts the way she fans the flames to make a more sensational story and improve ratings.”

Megan sighed. “Did you know Lana has been bringing the baby a gift every day? And Michael can't even bear to look at the child. This is so hard on all of them, Shelby and Garrett, too, knowing that they were once abandoned themselves.”

Dana knew about R.J.'s “cousins” and their past. The four siblings had been dropped off at Maitland Maternity shortly after it opened. No one had ever returned to claim them. Megan had found a wonderful home for them with good friends of hers, the Lords, and the children had been raised well. But Dana supposed being abandoned wasn't something you'd easily forget.

She looked at R.J. and wondered what he was thinking. He'd been accused of abandoning a baby himself. R.J. was close to the Lords and knew they still struggled with their past. Because of his own father's desertion, his sympathy for them ran deep, and made even the suggestion that he would inflict the same pain on a child doubly hurtful. R.J. would never admit just how much the accusation had affected him, though. He'd stomp about and growl and put on a show of anger, but deep inside, Dana knew he was aching.

R.J. noticed her watching him and took her hand, though it was Megan he spoke to. “There haven't been any dull moments lately, that's for sure.”

“You're the master of understatement.” Drake settled back in his seat and lifted his champagne once more.

“Enough of that.” Megan spoke with brisk command. “This is a day for celebration. There's no reason for us to dwell on all that unpleasantness. Let's change the subject, shall we?”

Dana noticed how R.J. suddenly focused on his
mother, his gaze growing intent and purposeful. “All right, Mother. I have a topic for you. Connor.”

Megan gave a look heavenward. “What would you like to know, R.J.?”

“Oh, I don't know. Anything. Everything. I'm sure the man has been fascinating since he's shown up.”

The look Megan sent her son would have quelled most men. She plainly didn't appreciate his sarcasm one whit. But Dana saw that R.J. wouldn't back down. He was worried about his mother, and that was enough reason for him to butt in.

Megan needlessly twitched the skirt of her green silk dress, smoothing it out over the posh limo seats. “Connor is fine. And he seems to be enjoying himself.”

R.J.'s laughter was brusque. “I'm sure he is.”

“Don't be snide, R.J.”

He didn't answer, choosing instead to take a swallow of champagne.

Megan sighed. “You'll feel better about Connor when you see him again at Thanksgiving dinner.” She turned to Dana. “Of course, you'll be there now, too. We're going to love having you in the family.”

Dana gave her a wan smile. And just how long would she be in the family? a tiny voice asked her.

 

T
HE RINGING PHONE
disturbed Janelle from her daydreams of wealth. A large home, a new car, vacations to the tropics—all the things that should have rightfully been hers since birth.

She pushed her hair away from her face and reached out with her left hand to snag the receiver. “Yeah?”

“What's up, sweetheart?”

Janelle bolted upright in bed, shoving aside the brochures spread out around her. “Petey?”

“That's ‘Connor' to you, babe.”

“Don't joke!” Janelle scooted to sit on the edge of the mattress, her heart racing. “It's all going well?”

“Like a dream. You wouldn't believe how easy it's been. The condo she set me up in is posh. I could get used to this.”

“I'm worried, Petey.”

His sigh was long and aggrieved. “All right. What is it now?”

Janelle rolled her eyes. The man could be so obtuse. “There's still been no sign of Lacy?”

“Nope. No word of any dead women being found.”

“Damn.”

“Relax, babe. I told you, it's not that big of a deal these days. Dead bodies turn up all the time.” His chuckle grated along her nerves. “Besides, the Maitlands have had other things to occupy them, like the living, breathing bodies. You wouldn't believe all the ruckus over the baby. Every single male Maitland around is being accused of dumping that kid. They're all running in circles—it's pretty damn funny.”

Janelle clutched the worn chenille spread with her free hand. “Well, don't you dare act amused, Petey,
do you hear me? You be humble and gracious and sincere.” Why did she have to tell him how important this was? “When you all get together for Thanksgiving, make them believe the only thing you want is family. Once I claim the baby and explain our ‘dire' situation, they'll get sucked in and we'll be on easy street!”

“I'm a born actor, sweetheart. I told the old lady how shocked I was to find out Clarise wasn't my real mother, that I'd been stolen from my rightful mother at birth, and she just ate it up. I told her I didn't want to cause her trouble, I just wanted to know her, since she was my ma.” He laughed. “She's been real motherly ever since.”

“What about the baby? Does anyone suspect anything?”

“With me? Nah. Not since I've told them it couldn't be mine.”

“Still, Petey, keep on the lookout for any news about Lacy. Any bodies found with a head wound—hell, any bodies at all—I want to know about it. I can't quit worrying until I know she's been located. A dead woman in the alley that close to the clinic would make front-page news, regardless of what else is going on!”

“Stop fretting. I'll let you know the second I hear anything.”

As she hung up, a cloud of misgivings loomed over Janelle's head. The color brochure of a luxurious Hawaiian vacation resort was crumpled in her fist. She threw the wad of paper across the room.

Damn it, she had as much right to the Maitland fortune as any of them. Just because her father had turned out to be the black sheep didn't mean she should be denied her fair share. R.J. and Anna were his kids, too, and they were being pampered, so why shouldn't she? But until that damned Lacy was found, she wouldn't be able to rest easy.

Things would work out in the end, she swore silently. She and Petey would have the money, and they'd take the kid for protection. They'd live the good life—she'd make damn sure they did.

I
T WAS SEVERAL HOURS
later before the limo dropped Dana and R.J. off in front of his house. Dana had never been here before, and he wondered what she'd think of it.

Actually, he'd been wondering what she was thinking all day. She'd been totally closed off from him, playing the role of new bride to perfection while hiding any real emotion.

He didn't like it.

He liked his reactions to her even less.

Sitting in the limo, he'd taken special note of the way she crossed her legs—long legs, he had only recently realized. As she looked out the window, avoiding his eyes, he'd seen the way her chest rose and fell with nervous breaths and couldn't keep himself from imagining her naked.

Dana.

Somehow, the fact that he felt as if he'd known her forever, that she'd always been a friend, made the moment highly erotic. He'd bedded more than his fair share of beautiful women. Hell, even if he didn't have a healthy sex drive, he'd have been highly experienced. Women chased him down, drawn by his money, his power, his connections.
Several times the papers had labeled him Austin's most eligible bachelor—a title he'd intended to maintain forever.

Yet here he was married.
To Dana.

She certainly hadn't come on to him for money, or for any of the other motives women had shown in the past. He'd offered her money and she'd refused. She staunchly insisted on keeping her independence, on supporting herself. She'd looked poleaxed when she discovered he'd bought her a ring, damn her, which had made him feel like an ogre. She should have known him better than that, and probably did, but she intended to stick to their agreement, which meant she expected nothing from him.

Except sex.

That fact had been eating away at his control all day. Playing the diligent bridegroom, touching her, kissing her, had added to his strain. Dana hadn't noticed, but he'd been half-hard since the judge had proclaimed them man and wife.

He needed to get the upper hand again, and he might as well start right now.

“Dana?”

She glanced at him as if she'd forgotten he was there. “Yes?”

The chauffeur was pulling the limo around the curving drive to the front door. Lazily, R.J. leaned back in his seat and looked her over. “I had my housekeeper prepare your room for you. She's put away all your clothes and the things that you sent
over earlier. Anything else you need we can get later.”

“All right.”

She was too agreeable, and he didn't like it. “It's not very late yet, but all things considered, I thought you could take a brief tour of the house to familiarize yourself, then change into something more comfortable. We can have a drink out on the veranda and relax…before going to bed.”

He saw her slender, pale throat move as she swallowed, and he congratulated himself for taking her off guard. God knew, she'd kept him off guard since making her tantalizing demand. His head still reeled whenever he thought of it.

As she turned to look at him directly, he noticed that her green eyes were brighter than the emeralds she now wore. “I thought we agreed we'd share a room.”

Persistent witch. He kept his expression impassive and shrugged. “Our rooms connect, both by an inside door and the veranda. You'll be free to come and go as you please. I thought you might appreciate the privacy for dressing and bathing and doing your hair and—” he gestured with his hand. “—whatever else it is women do on a daily basis.”

She nodded, again looking away from him.

He didn't like her lack of attention, and gently, deliberately, added, “You don't have to worry, Dana. I'll be available to you when you want my end of the bargain met.”

Her gaze snapped back to his, and a rosy blush
spread from her throat up. Intrigued, R.J. sat forward, keeping his eyes locked on hers, and slowly reached out to touch the emerald necklace with one finger. “Ah. Warmth. I did wonder if your blush was as hot as it appeared.” His finger stroked beneath the small stone, then all around it. He smiled, and a slight tension invaded his muscles. “Even the gold is heated,” he murmured.

Dana's breathing accelerated, but it was nothing compared with his own reaction. He enjoyed touching her, seeing her respond so freely. Her eyes drifted shut, and he looked at her pale skin where his rough finger slowly glided, going lower and lower.

As usual, her blouse was fully buttoned, but this one had something of a modestly scooped neckline. He wondered whether she'd chosen it to show off the emerald or to attempt to seduce him. He almost chuckled. Dana was reserved enough to think a small glimpse of collarbone might be enticing.

Strangely enough, she was right.

The limo stopped and the driver got out. R.J. straightened back in his seat and watched Dana struggle to regain her composure. She was still breathing a little roughly, still fidgeting when the door opened and the driver offered an arm.

With a mumbled thank you she got out of the car, then turned to stone as she surveyed his house. R.J. watched her from the corner of his eye as he dispatched the driver. She looked positively stunned, taking in everything around her as if in disbelief. It was fairly dark, but he had installed lighting along
the path and at key points around the grounds to draw focus to a particular plant or tree. The lights gave off a soft, muted yellow glow.

Stepping up behind her, R.J. put both hands on her shoulders and whispered near her ear, “What do you think of your new home?”

“Oh, it's beautiful!” But she wasn't looking at the house, only the gardens.

“So it'll do?” he teased.

She stepped away to touch the feathery leaves of a young Chinese fan palm. R.J. had had several of them planted in staggered groups around the front of the property, to act as both a privacy fence and an ornamental border. There were also southern magnolia and crape myrtle trees, but it was November so they weren't blooming. He wondered what she'd think of his house in the spring when every tree and bush was fresh and new with budding life, ripe with color.

Except she wouldn't be here in the spring. By then, all the problems should be resolved, and he could resume his normal life.

A life without a wife.

“There are fruit trees in the back,” he told her, “and several flower gardens. This isn't the best time of year to view the trees, but tomorrow I'll show them to you, if you like.”

She turned to smile at him. “I'd love that. Thank you.”

Taking her arm, he led her along the cobbled walk toward the front doors, pointing out some of his fa
vorite plants. “I like things to take their own natural shape rather than be pruned into little squares or circles. Everything is bushier and softer that way. This is a Camellia japonica.”

“It's beautiful. And so many flowers.”

“The japonica has a very long season. And of course, those are hostas surrounding it. I prefer the halcyon for the bluish color. I just had them thinned out this fall, so they're not as full as usual. But it gives the day lilies more room to spread.”

She stepped away onto another path lined with pansies of every color. “What's that tree?”

R.J. put his hands in the pockets of his slacks and followed along, enjoying her enthusiasm, the heavy darkness of the night. Her scent drifted back to him, noticeable even among all the fragrant flowers.

The evening was pleasant, around seventy degrees, with a bright moon and a multitude of stars. The lighting system gave the yard the look of early dusk, but it left deep shadows in Dana's bright green eyes. She looked…mysterious. “This one's a pink dogwood. The flowers are gone, of course, but the leaves turn such a brilliant scarlet in fall, as you can see, so it's always showy. One of my favorites.”

She took off again, getting farther and farther from the house. “And that one?”

With a low, pleased chuckle, R.J. followed. Then he answered all her questions, which were numerous.

It was almost half an hour later when it dawned on him that Dana had effectively sidetracked him from his plans. Here it was his wedding night, and
his new bride had him ambling around the grounds of his house looking at shrubs and trees and various types of mulch. Hell, they'd even discussed underground watering systems. He felt like an ass, and worse, he felt strangely vulnerable.

Damn her. He didn't like feeling out of control.

“Enough, Dana,” he said when she started to question him on the homemade bench placed beneath a trellis of lush purple clematis. He managed, just barely, to keep the annoyance and inner turmoil out of his voice. “Don't you think it's time we went inside? I'd like to show you your room.”

“Does my room have a view of the grounds?”

He caught her arm and started her back toward the path. Her French twist had begun to slip, and instead of being neatly anchored as usual, her hair looked softer and slightly tousled.

“Your room faces the back overlooking a fountain. There's a row or two of Sparkle berry, which you'll enjoy because they're loaded with bright red berries right now, and the birds flock to them.”

She stepped away from him to turn a full circle, her arms outstretched, her face tilted to the endless sky above. “This is like a fairy-tale castle, R.J.,” she said in a breathless whisper, “with so many gorgeous plants and colors and scents. I feel like I could get lost out here. I had no idea you knew so much about gardening.”

That wasn't much of a surprise, since no one, other than his housekeeper, knew about his fascination
with plants and his affinity for digging in the dirt. And he preferred to keep it that way.

Why in hell he'd opened up so completely to Dana, he couldn't guess.

She continued to stare into the star-studded sky, oblivious to his turmoil. If she'd been aware of it, he thought with a wry smile, he had no doubt she'd try to find a way to fix it for him.

For some reason, that thought perturbed him. She looked so happy and carefree, her fair hair glowing in the combined moon and lamp light, a few tendrils ruffled by the soft breeze, and suddenly he was restless, overcome by a vague longing. It was a wholly uncomfortable feeling, and he scowled. Snatching her hand as she twirled past once again, he pulled her against his chest and leaned down until their mouths were only separated by a breath.

“This is very private land, Dana. I know you haven't bothered looking at the house, but I chose it for its isolation. If you'd like, we could have our wedding night right here, beneath the weeping willow with the begonias all around us. Would you like that?”

Her eyes widened, looking dark and deep in the dim light, and her mouth fell open. He took advantage of the moment to kiss her, knowing it would distract her and embarrass her and most likely excite her. He felt as if he could deal with any one of those emotions far easier than he could the naked happiness he'd read in her expression.

It was the first time he'd ever seen her look that way, and the look was incredibly potent.

She was stiff in his arms for about three seconds, then her hands slid up his shoulders to his head and she gripped his hair hard as a groan escaped her, her mouth moving against his, her body pushing into his. She nearly pulled his hair out as she tried to get closer. She accepted his tongue, then went one further and sucked on it. R.J. gasped, her passion both astounding and seductive. He caught her wrists and gently eased her hands away before she could do more damage to his scalp.

“Easy, sweetheart. I like my head where it is.”

She either didn't hear or didn't understand his teasing comment. Pressed full against him, she went on tiptoe and tried to find his mouth again. R.J. leaned back, laughing softly to himself. She was such a sweet surprise! As long as she was amusing him, there'd be no problem.

He cupped her face between his hands to gain her attention, then asked, “Is that a yes? Do you want to strip for me now and lie down on the soft grass? The air is a little fresh, but I think we'll manage to stay warm enough once we get things started.”

Very slowly, awareness seeped back into her soft eyes. Her brows rose and her pupils flared. She scrambled out of his reach, crossing her arms over her chest in an oddly protective gesture that made him want to hold her again, gently this time, to comfort her.

“No.” She shook her head, and her hair threat
ened to come completely undone. One long tendril dropped down across her forehead, fascinating him and making her huff with impatience. “I have no intention of…of…”

He wanted badly to smooth her hair and started to do just that. “Frolicking among nature?” He knew he was obsessed with her hair, like a pioneer male waiting anxiously to get a glimpse of a woman's ankle. Good God, it was only hair, and all women had it. It was just that Dana had always kept hers neatly pinned up, making his curiosity run wild.

She smacked his hand away before he could actually touch her. “It isn't funny, R.J.!”

Neither was his throbbing erection, but he was dealing with it the best he could. Which was evidently far better than she could deal with her own arousal. Dana had a tendency to get snippy when she was turned on or sexually frustrated. He'd found that out each time he kissed her. He wondered what would happen when she could let all that passion loose, rather than struggle to restrain it.

He wondered what would happen tonight.

Smiling, he looped his arm around her shoulders and again tried to get her on the winding path that led to the front door. “No doubt Betty, my housekeeper, heard the limo and is waiting for us. She'll have no idea what we're doing out here.”

“That's a relief!”

R.J. was feeling just contrary enough to give her a squeeze. “We're married now, sweetheart. We can damn well cavort wherever we please.” And soon,
he'd be cavorting with her in
her
bed, where he intended to leave her. He liked his privacy, whether she valued her own or not. He expected to consummate the marriage with as little fuss as possible, pleasing her, pleasing himself, but no more than that. He'd remain detached and efficient and he'd fulfill her demands while still keeping as much emotional distance from her as possible. It could be done; he'd had sex with any number of women without feeling a single thing beyond physical satisfaction.