Married To The Boss (9 page)

And afterward he'd hold her until she dozed off, then retreat to his own room.

He liked sleeping alone, damn it, and he expected to go on liking it. He was thirty-nine years old and he'd never before been inclined to share his bed. He didn't intend to start now.

If she wanted to repeat the procedure nightly, well, who was he to complain about an available lover? He'd always had a very healthy sex drive, and no doubt the arrangement would prove convenient.

She'd be happy with the bargain, damn her, and he'd still keep himself safe.

Betty was waiting at the door when they reached it, her large brown eyes curious, her hands clutched together at her rounded middle. She was more than twenty years his senior, but as spry as a teenager and as protective and bossy as a surrogate mother. When they neared, a wide smile broke out over her pleasant face.

“There you are! I wondered what happened to you.”

“Sorry if we worried you, Betty.” R.J. pressed Dana forward. “My bride showed an unexpected interest in the grounds.”

Dana reached a hand out. “Hello, Betty. I'm Dana Dillinger.”

R.J. made a tsking sound. “How soon they forget. It's Dana Maitland now, love. At least, if that's what you want.”

“Oh.” Dana looked almost bewildered as Betty took her hand in a warm welcome.

The housekeeper, who thought any outdoor activity was thoroughly heinous, gave Dana an inquiring look. “The grounds?”

“All the beautiful trees and shrubs,” Dana clarified.

“Oh, yes. Mr. Maitland does like puttering around outside.” Her nose had wrinkled slightly, and then she ushered them both inside. “Come on in, now. I have everything ready for you.”

To R.J.'s surprise, Dana didn't show nearly as much interest in the interior of the house as she had the gardens. Not that his home was a design showpiece. It was a modest two-story, situated in a quiet location. He was only one man and had no need for a much larger place. When he'd chosen the house, which had been built at the turn of the century, but recently renovated, it had been for the privacy, the abundance of land and the architectural charm. He loved the arched doorways and wooden floors and trim, the wide back veranda and original windows. The place had been professionally decorated, and
many of his furnishings were antique, in keeping with the age of the house.

Dana gave a cursory glance at the entrance hall, peeked into the dining room at the right and the living room at the left, then peered at the curving staircase.

Betty started in that direction, leading the way up the stairs. “Your bags arrived earlier, and I've already put everything away.” When they reached the top, she turned to the right to a pair of connecting bedrooms with private baths. To the left were two guest bedrooms and a hall bath.

“The kitchen is downstairs, just beyond the dining room,” Betty explained, “and at the back of the house is a den with a nice library, and a workout room that's adjacent to an enclosed porch with a hot tub.”

She turned and smiled at them both. “Dana, your bathroom is right through that door. I put all your toiletries away so you shouldn't have any trouble finding what you need. Here's the closet, and I've already arranged all your things.” The door leading to R.J.'s room stood open.

He saw Dana bite her lip and knew she felt uncomfortable that Betty knew of the sleeping arrangements. He gave his housekeeper a hug and said easily, “Thanks, Betty, for staying late and for getting everything organized so well.”

She sent a stern look his way. “It's not every day you get married, Mr. M., now is it? I was glad to stay and help out. Besides, I had to meet your bride!
Having a woman in the house is going to be quite a change.”

“You're a sweetheart. But we can manage from here, so you might as well head home. And, Betty, take the day off tomorrow, all right?”

She winked at Dana. “I was planning to! I've already put a casserole in the refrigerator, and there's salad makings and a fresh-baked pie for dessert. The refrigerator is stocked with plenty of things for lunch, and I made sure no one else was set to come to work tomorrow.” In an aside to Dana, she explained, “Mr. M. has a regular man to mow the lawn and another to tend the pool and the hot tub. All things considered, I figured that could be put off for a couple of days.”

“Remind me to give you a bonus, Betty.”

“Ha! I'll hold you to that.” She squeezed Dana's hand again then bustled out the door, saying over her shoulder, “I'll lock up on my way out.”

Betty was no sooner gone and the bedroom door closed softly behind her than Dana began to fidget. R.J. gave in to a private, very indulgent smile of satisfaction. Naturally she was nervous about being with him the first time, and that suited him just fine. He watched her walk to the window to look out into the garden below.

“How do you like your room?”

She jumped slightly at his voice, then glanced at him quickly over her shoulder. “It's lovely.” She barely looked at the room, all her attention focused
on the scene outside her window. “Who did it belong to before me?”

Ah. Was that a tinge of jealousy he heard? But that didn't make any sense, and in any case, he didn't want her to be possessive enough to feel jealousy. He decided it was no more than Dana's practical search for info. She always asked questions.

Slowly, R.J. approached her until he stood just a few inches behind her. He looked over her shoulder at the lighted fountain and flowers below, but he didn't touch her. Not yet. Let the tension build, he thought, knowing it would make things go that much smoother, and easier, when they got around to consummating their bogus marriage—as per her request. She wouldn't have the wit, or the interest, in insisting he stay the night with her, not when she was totally replete.

“This room was utilitarian. I had old files in here, a comfortable chair where I could read. Because of the other two guest rooms, I never felt I needed another. People don't visit me overnight all that often.”

Dana stiffened somewhat, turning her head just enough that he could see her profile. R.J. touched the tip of her nose. “No, Dana, not even women. A woman who wakes in your house in the morning likes to assume things that don't exist.”

Still slightly turned away from him, she asked incredulously, “You're telling me no woman has spent the night with you here?”

“That surprises you? You've seen how easily the media can turn against you, even though I've always
been very discreet. Can you imagine how it would've been if I'd advertised my personal affairs?”

She waited a moment, then nodded, as if accepting the truth of his words. “Who decorated the room? You?”

That made him laugh. “Hardly. I have a knack for landscaping, and I know what type of furniture I like, but when it comes to matching flowered spreads with pastel curtains….”

She stepped away from the window. For the first time she really observed the room, and judging by the look on her face, it was only then that she realized the room had been done specifically with a woman's tastes in mind.

The carpet was a soft cream, as were the walls, which featured stark white moldings at the ceiling and floor. The furniture was light oak with a natural sheen, new, yet crafted with the care and detail of days gone by. The spread on the queen-size bed was a bright splash of pastel flowers with an abundance of velvety throw pillows in every shape and color. Feminine, but not overly so.

The dust ruffle was edged with crocheted lace. Fresh flowers were arranged in vases around the room, and the lightweight curtains had been drawn back to allow in the moonlight and the muted glow from the gardens.

R.J. spoke softly, watching the expressions flickering across her face. “I sort of judged what I wanted by looking at Anna's rooms. I hope you approve. I hired a designer, but specifically told her to style it
for a woman with understated tastes and without a lot of fussiness.”

Dana turned to gape at him. “Oh, my God! Your sister. Anna wasn't at the wedding.”

R.J. turned to stone. “No, I didn't want Anna involved.” His sister was very precious to him. Ever since they'd been dropped off at Megan and William's home when he had been only three and Anna little more than an infant, R.J. had been determined to protect her. That meant keeping her out of his lies and out of the public spotlight. He hadn't known for certain if the press would end up hounding them at the wedding, but it had been likely, and he'd wanted Anna as far from him as possible. He also hadn't wanted his sister to probe too closely into his reasons for his hasty marriage.

“R.J., she'll be hurt.”

“Not after I explain.” He wouldn't give Anna the full truth, but he would make her understand that he'd only been trying to protect her and his ten-year-old nephew, Will, from the relentless press. The thought of Anna's face ending up in some rag mag, as his own had been, filled him with a killing rage. He wouldn't let that happen.

Dana was watching him with a keen intensity, and he instinctively withdrew, concealing his thoughts instantly. He gave her a vague smile and kept his tone light. “I gather the room doesn't impress you.”

“I like it very much.”

She sounded far from sincere. “Honey, you live
here now. You can feel free to change anything. I want you to be comfortable.”

“The view is spectacular. Did I see a pond?”

His mouth quirked at her continued interest in the grounds. “Yes, filled with fat goldfish. I put it in over the summer. I'm surprised you could see it this time of night.” The pond was a discreet distance from the house and was surrounded by lilies. It featured a small waterfall, as well as a few aquatic denizens, like the goldfish, frogs and some bottom feeders.

“Water is very reflective in moonlight.”

More than ready to change the subject, he stepped forward and fingered a loose tendril of her hair. “So is your hair.” He searched her face and found a touch of hesitancy, a little shyness and a dose of obvious eagerness. He grinned. “I think I'll go take a quick shower. I'll join you here in about thirty minutes?” That should give her plenty of time to prepare herself. He had a vague image in his mind of Dana with her hair falling free, a sexy negligee draped over her body and a smile of welcome on her face.

His hands shook.

“That's…that's fine.”

R.J. touched her cheek once again, gave her a quick peck, then formed a strategic retreat before Dana could realize just how badly he wanted her.

She could never know the effect she had on him.

He didn't even like to admit it to himself.

R.J.
WAITED
thirty-eight minutes exactly, not wanting to seem too anxious. But the truth was, his body had been invaded by a fine trembling that wouldn't abate. He felt rock hard from his nape down to his toes, all his muscles tense, his movements awkward, his heart beating much too fast.

Never had he needed a woman this badly, but then, never had there been so much plotting involved. If he wanted a woman, he made an advance. She either accepted it or not, and the outcome had never been very important to him. He hadn't become the most eligible bachelor in Austin without being aware of the perks involved. If one woman refused him, he could always find another.

Somehow, Dana was different.

Wearing only a pair of slacks, he gave a quick tap at the door between their rooms, then quietly opened it. After her insistence that they see this through, he half expected to find Dana in the bed, provocatively posed, waiting for him. He half expected a shimmer of moonlight to drift over her partially clad body, highlighting some seductive detail of a sexy negligee that displayed more than it covered.

He did not expect to find her standing in front of
the damn window once again, looking outside. Her hair was down now, but neatly braided, the pale rope falling just below her shoulder blades. She glanced at him over her shoulder, her face shiny clean in the moonlight, her eyes wide.

She wore a long white, granny gown.

It should have been the most sexless thing he'd ever encountered, given that it covered her from throat to toes. Even the sleeves were long, fitting to her wrists. It had no detailing that he could discern, just yards and yards of material that hid her body from him completely.

And made him pulse with need.

God, she looked so innocent and sweet. Never in his life had he seen a woman wear such a garment. The sheer novelty of it was proving to be extremely erotic.

Without looking away from her, he closed the door behind him. He hadn't meant to do that, wanting the return to his own room to be as inconspicuous as possible. But he'd needed something to do besides gawk, so he'd closed the damn door.

“Dana.”

She turned completely to face him, her hands laced together in front of her, eyes glowing. She'd turned off all the lamps, but with the curtains wide open there was enough moonlight flooding over her for him to see. Not the small details, but her form and the bed, everything that was necessary.

“I'm a little nervous,” she whispered.

He drew a slow breath that didn't do a damn thing
to calm his galloping heart and forced the necessary words through his constricted throat. “You can still change your mind, you know.”

She shook her head in immediate denial, causing the braid to swing over her shoulder, where it landed softly against her breast.

“All right.” He reached out his hand. “Then come here.”

She moved away from the window—and the moonlight—which left her body only a vague shadow. Taking tentative steps, she crossed the room until she stood before him. R.J. didn't dare touch her anywhere but her hand, which she offered to him shyly. Her fingers were cold and taken by a slight trembling that couldn't be feigned.

“You braided your hair.”

“It tangles easily.”

Amusement nudged at his lust-fogged brain. “Honey, most women would have left it loose, anyway. It's sexier that way.”

He sensed more than saw her slight shrug. “For some women, maybe. I don't…don't do
sexy
very well. And my hair…it's just straight. And fine. It's not very sexy hair, believe me.”

He swallowed hard, barely absorbing the meaning of her words. “I think I'd like to find out for myself, if you don't mind.”

“You want me to unbraid it?” Her tone indicated that the prospect held little appeal for her.

He wanted her naked, spread out on the bed. He
wanted to be inside her already. His muscles strained with the effort to reign in his urgency.
Absurd.

“I'd like that very much.” He'd have offered to do the deed himself, but he didn't think he could and still maintain control.

Dana released his hand and reached for the end of the braid. A cloth-covered band pulled free, and she placed it on the dressing table in a small dish. Her movements were only faintly visible in the dark room, a whisper of sound, a shifting shadow. Only her white gown, the glimmer of her wide eyes and her fair hair shone clearly, allowing him to track her movements.

With nimble fingers, she loosened the braid, separating each long tress until her hair was shining and free and he had to catch his breath. Not sexy? Who the hell had ever told her such a ridiculous thing?

Bent on seduction—hers, not his—he gathered a handful of her hair and caressed it. It was baby fine, just as she'd claimed, and very, very soft. It slipped through his fingers like warm water, and he wished very badly that he could see her better.

He imagined that hair trailing over his chest, his abdomen, his upper thighs. He barely bit back a groan, even as he trembled uncontrollably.

“You're wrong,” he rasped.

She remained silent, and her wide eyes shone up at him in a sort of dazed confusion.

A gentle smile tugged at his mouth, despite his arousal. “Your hair,” he explained in a gruff whis
per. “It is sexy. Warm, silky. I can't believe you keep it put up all the time.”

He could feel her restlessness before she asked, “Even…even if what you said were true, why would I wear it down?”

R.J. stared at her as the words sank in like a dose of reality. Why
should
she wear her hair down? Dana had never been a woman who tried to attract men. She didn't flirt, didn't pose, didn't indulge in casual banter. She was always perfectly attired and proper, her appearance neat and orderly, meant to draw male appreciation. She didn't wear clothing that accentuated any part of her femininity. If anything, her business suits tended to conceal.

The professional image she presented to the world pleased him immensely, both in her role as his executive secretary and as his friend and confidante. He didn't want anything to change, certainly not Dana. He didn't want to alter their relationship when it already felt so right.

He had to remember that. The last thing he wanted to do was convince her to change her look; he sure as hell didn't want any other man discovering how attractive she could be. She could keep her hair up, and it would suit him just fine.

He took her hand again and led her toward the bed, stopping right beside it. There was no moonlight here, just deep shadows and Dana's evocative scent. Taking her face in his hands, he bent low and whispered, “I suppose we should get things moving.”

She stiffened at his words, as he'd known she
would. But he needed to remind her—and himself—that this was part of their deal, not a love affair, regardless of how his voice shook when he spoke, or the way his hands trembled. They had a business arrangement, and he didn't want her to read any more into it than that.

First he kissed her cheek, then the very corner of her lips, before closing his mouth over hers. Despite her frozen posture, her lips opened softly beneath his. His heart drummed madly, confounding him and renewing his determination. Without preamble, he sank his tongue inside, then groaned aloud at the delicious taste of her. Her hands found his wrists and curled around them; her breathing deepened.

“Damn.”
He couldn't believe this was
his
Dana, his proper, restrained secretary who remained unflappable at even the most harried meeting, who faced disgruntled clients or upset contributors with cool poise and calm deliberation. The woman who'd confronted his temper many times without a single flinch.

Right now, she was simply a woman, shivering with need, low sounds of pleasure escaping her while he kissed her throat, her temple, her ear. He couldn't seem to make himself stop. He wanted, quite simply, to kiss her everywhere, to explore all the subtle fragrances and tastes of her body.

Yet she was still the same woman he'd always known but never regarded as a sexual being; his secretary, his friend, his Dana.
His wife.

She pressed against him, trying to complete the
contact of their bodies. Despite his resolve, it amazed and excited him that she had always looked so innocent. For all the time he'd known her, she'd seemed disinterested in sex, yet here she was, wriggling against him like a wanton woman.

He lifted one hand to close over her breast. R.J. was experienced in reading women, in picking up their nuances, knowing what pleasured them and when they wanted that pleasure. It was an awareness that made him a good lover. Dana wanted, needed to be touched, so he touched her.

Pure sensation shot through him at the feel of her. Her breast was soft and heavy beneath the fabric of her gown, and her small nipple tightened against his palm. He rubbed it with his open hand and she clutched at him, appearing both strangely bewildered and wildly excited. He heard her breath catch, felt her body shiver.

Kissing her voraciously, he forced her head to bend back to give him better access. The urge to tumble her onto the bed swamped him. He was so hard he hurt.

He pulled his mouth free to drag in a needed breath of air, his body awash in heat. Dana left her head tipped back, her eyes closed, as she gave herself up to his touch.

It was too much.

He hooked his free arm beneath her buttocks and lifted her against his pelvis, pressing her into him until her soft thighs parted and he could stroke the soft notch of her thighs with his pulsing arousal.

She cried out, her hands again clutching at his hair, trying to bring his mouth back to hers.

Instead, he raised her a bit higher and drew her cloth-covered nipple into his mouth. She went wild.

Her movements weren't smooth or practiced, and they fired his lust. Her legs closed around his hips, and he took two quick steps forward until her back came up against the wall. He pinned her there with his body, nearly beyond rational thought.

The damned floor-length nightgown was in his way, and he struggled briefly with it, jerking it above her knees and then sinking his fingers into her soft outer thigh just below her buttocks.

“R.J.!”

She wasn't wearing panties. His palm encountered the firm contours of her bottom, and he groaned again, caught up in a fog of raging lust. It had never been like this for him, but then he'd never made love with a woman like Dana before, a feminine paradox, subtle one moment, fiercely blatant the next.

He wanted her naked, but he didn't know if he could wait that long. He adjusted his hold, bringing his hand around the front to her smooth, silky belly. She stiffened the tiniest bit, her breathing suspended as his fingers stroked down and into her soft curls.

She jerked, but he held her tight, limiting her instinctive movements. He insinuated one finger between her delicate folds and touched her, overwhelmed by her heat, her wetness. “Oh, yeah.” He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Hell, yes.”

His fingers stroked deeper, slowly, and she bucked
against him, her breathing choppy, her fingers biting into his shoulders. “You want this, don't you, Dana? You're so damn hot.” He pushed one finger into her and was amazed at the incredible tightness, the way her muscles spasmed, gripping his finger hard.

“R.J.?”

She'd gone still, but he wrote it off as expectant anticipation. If she was half as aroused as he was, he could understand her inability to move. He felt clumsy in his urgency to become part of her. He forced another finger deep and swallowed her groan with a long, devouring kiss.

There was a buzzing in his ears, a red haze blotting out the shadows in the room. Unable to wait a second more, he turned and lowered Dana to the mattress. Her legs hung over the side and she started to sit up, but he came down over her, between her widespread thighs. He kissed her quiet, until her arms were wrapped around his neck and her thighs moved restlessly alongside his.

“Don't move,” he muttered, then levered himself up enough to shove the gown above her breasts. He couldn't see her in the darkness, and it frustrated him, but he was too close to the edge to start fumbling with the lights. He unzipped his pants and stripped them off, then hurriedly slid on a condom. The shaking in his hands enraged him, but thankfully it was too dark for her to see.

The welcoming softness of her body greeted him as he lowered his weight onto her. He almost growled at the exquisite sensation. In the back of his
mind, he kept thinking,
Is this really Dana?
The reality of being with her like this was almost more than he could take. He'd always seen Dana as sexless, female efficiency in a suit. But the heat of her exposed body, the frantic beating of her heart and the soft cushion of her breasts beneath his chest proved she was very capable of indulging in even the most heated encounters. He'd been duped by her—and now he was learning the sweet truth.

Carefully he parted her with his fingers, struggling to go slowly, despite the urgency surging through him. He guided himself just inside, grinding his teeth at her heat, at her wetness as she closed around the very tip of him. Dana didn't move, didn't even breathe. He pressed forward with an effort, going a little deeper. She felt snug, unbearably so, tight enough to completely shatter his control.

With a rough curse he wrapped one arm around her trim hips, lifted her high and drove into her. He was met with natural resistance for a split second before her body opened to his and he sank deep with a raw groan of indescribable pleasure.

He had a single moment to absorb the pleasure of having his length wrapped tightly in moist heat, then Dana arched so violently she almost bucked him off. Her soft, nearly breathless gasp rang in his ears, and he realized several things at once.

Dana was no longer holding him tight. Her hands were pressed hard against his chest in an effort to shove him away. He didn't move.