The Man's Outrageous Demands (10 page)

“Well, I looked at your calendar and apparently you have a private dinner with our illustrious Minister of Defense.” Stacy giggled. “Weren’t you just saying yesterday that you weren’t interested in him in any personal way?”

Marabeth groaned inwardly. She’d purposely forgotten that Sam had dictated a dinner with her tonight. “I didn’t say that I wasn’t interested in him in a personal way. I said that I didn’t like him. But I guess the assumption could be that I am
not
interested in him in any way other than as a bump under my car, but since that’s a wish I’m not going to get any time soon, I suppose I should just accept that he’s employed by my father and ignore him as much as possible.”

Stacy’s eyes widened at Marabeth’s tone. “How are you going to avoid him tonight? According to your calendar, it is only going to be the two of you.”

Marabeth’s lips firmed in concentration. Shaking her head she looked around her desk for her notepad. “No. I’m not having dinner with that man,” she said and closed down her computer. “Is there anything else that needs to be attended to before tomorrow?” Marabeth asked, glancing through her notes to make sure they had checked everything for the next day’s meeting.

Stacy looked down her notes and made sure everything was covered. “No, I think everything is all set. How long are we going to do this?” Stacy asked.

Marabeth smiled triumphantly. “As long as I’m restricted.”

“Okay. Well, I guess I’m going to head on home tonight,” she said and picked up her purse. “Why would Sam Montrose set up a dinner appointment with you?”

Marabeth sighed. “It’s a long story,” she said, rubbing her forehead.

“Well, maybe you’ll fill me in tomorrow,” Stacy said and pulled her purse over her shoulder. “See you later. Good luck avoiding him tonight.”

“No luck needed,” Marabeth said and closed her office door as well.

Marabeth walked down the hallway to her suite of rooms. She quickly changed into a pair of well worn jeans and a sweat shirt, an outfit she knew her father hated seeing her in. She suspected that Sam would get the message as well but only if he found her.

She slipped down the hallway and into the screening room. Surveying the available movies, she selected an old classic and pressed the buttons. Instantly, the lights lowered and a screen appeared out of the ceiling. Within minutes, the movie was playing and Marabeth was able to sit back in a comfortable seat and lose herself in the movie.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, she heard the door open and close. She didn’t even turn around, knowing no one but Sam would enter without her permission. Sure enough, his large frame settled into the seat next to hers and he silently watched the movie with her.

Marabeth was tense initially, wondering if he was going to stop the movie and talk to her. But thankfully, he just watched until the ending credits started scrolling on the screen.

“Good movie,” he said as the lights automatically came up and the screen again disappeared into the ceiling.

“Thanks. I didn’t invite you,” she said and stood up to walk out of the screening room. She’d already missed dinner and intended to just sneak into the kitchen and have a sandwich or something light. She’d done that in the past several times when she just wanted to be alone.

“I noticed.” He stood up and faced her, watching her start to walk out of the screening room. “So are you in the habit of standing up your dates?” he called out to her.

She walked down the hallway quickly, but his long strides enabled him to keep up with her easily. “I don’t recall accepting a date from anyone. No request was made.” “Ah!” Sam said, chuckling softly. “I understand.” He touched her arm to stop her. “Can I apologize for that then? And maybe we could start over again?”

Marabeth turned to face him, looking up into his handsome face. “Are you going to tell my father that you won’t marry me?”

“No.”

“Well, then what’s the point?,” she replied and started walking towards her suite again. “We haven’t really started over. And you haven’t asked me to marry you, by the way, so it might be awkward on your wedding day.”

Sam threw back his head and laughed. “Come on, I’m starving,” and he led her towards the kitchen. “I’m guessing you were going to scavenge. Would you mind terribly if I walked along beside you and scavenged as well?”

Marabeth only shrugged her shoulders. “If I asked you not to, would you go away?”

“No.”

She rolled her eyes at his quick response, gritting her teeth in frustration. “Well, then, what’s the point in asking me if I mind? A little rhetorical, wouldn’t you say?” She immediately walked faster, wishing she could leave him behind but knowing it wasn’t going to happen, not with his long legs anyway.

“Perhaps. But you don’t really want me to go away, do you?” he asked.

They’d reached the kitchen by that point and Marabeth poked her head in to see if the chefs were still busy. But thankfully, it was late enough so only the cleaning crew was around washing dishes. “I’m sure that I didn’t invite you and you’re still here.”

Sam opened the refrigerator for her and pulled out some sliced ham and cheese. Marabeth got the bread from the pantry. “Why do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Deny what is going on between us? You felt it the moment our hands touched that first time over a month ago. What is keeping you from just accepting that we’re attracted to each other and embrace it?”

“Why should I? Apparently, everyone is too busy telling me. Why should I bother to say it myself?” she said and put four pieces of bread onto a plate.

He stopped unwrapping the meat and cheese to look over the counter at her. “Is that what is wrong? That everyone is telling you the same thing and you’re just digging your heels in?”

Marabeth slapped some ham onto a piece of bread, then some cheese. Adding mustard, she closed it up and sliced it down the middle. “Not really. There’s also the very major issue that I just don’t like you,” she said and took a bite of her sandwich.

Sam laughed. “I think you like me too much,” he said and completed making his sandwich as well. “And that scares the hell out of you.”

“Sam, does your ego ever get so big it won’t fit through a door?” she asked and dropped her sandwich down onto her plate.

“Never,” he laughed and picked up her plate. “Come on. We’re not having this discussion in front of others,” he said.

Marabeth wanted to stomp her feet. “Why are we having this discussion at all?” she demanded.

“Come on, princess,” he said and walked out of the kitchen.

She wouldn’t follow him, she told herself. She would rather starve than eat with him. In fact, her appetite was now gone so he could just go wherever he wanted with her meal and have a wonderful time.

A few minutes later, she realized that he wasn’t waiting for her. He’d just disappeared. Marabeth felt slightly disappointed that he hadn’t at least made sure that she was following him but ignored that feeling.

She made her way towards her rooms, intending to hide away from him. Not that he wouldn’t just invade that area as well.

Walking into her rooms, she stopped short as soon as she saw him sitting on her sofa, a sandwich in one hand and a magazine in another. When she walked in, he raised one eyebrow in her direction. “Feel better?”

“No. Please leave,” she said.

“We’re back to you trying to ignore your feelings. Why don’t you eat your dinner, then we’ll talk.”

Marabeth took her sandwich and ate it, intending to go into her bedroom once she was done eating and ignore him completely.

She ate in silence, not even looking at him which didn’t matter to him since he continued to read her magazine. Once she was done, she dusted off her hands and stood up. “Good night, Sam.”

Sam laughed and grabbed her hand as she passed by the sofa he was sitting on. “Oh, no you don’t. Come back and talk to me. I’ll follow you in there. Don’t challenge me on that front.”

Marabeth tried to pull her hand away but his grip was firm but gentle. “Sam, leave me alone. We don’t have anything to say to each other,” she said, wishing she could scream it to him.

“No talking is fine with me,” he said and pulled her down onto his lap. “I didn’t really want to talk anyway. Not with you in these jeans anyway,” he said a moment before his mouth descended to hers. This kiss was not gentle like last night’s. It was hard and passionate and wouldn’t allow her to be anything other than a participant. His lips caressed hers, nibbling, soothing, back and forth until she opened her mouth. Once she opened, his tongue moved inside, mating with hers and creating sensations Marabeth couldn’t control. She gripped his shoulders and held on tightly, her mind blank and her body reacting to the feelings.

His hands were on her waist but once her tongue moved inside his mouth, imitating his movements, his hands gripped her waist, turning her more fully towards him. When she was where he wanted her, his hands moved down, gripping her hips, then back up slowly, sliding underneath her sweatshirt.

Marabeth gasped when she felt his hands on her bare skin. Her mouth moved away slightly and her eyes looked up into his, wondering if he was feeling the same thing she was. His eyes were intense and hooded. When his hand moved up an inch higher, she almost moaned at the heat ripping through her.

One of Sam’s hands moved out from underneath her sweatshirt and pulled her head towards his again, and the dual sensations of his hands and his mouth blurred the argument she had been having with him earlier. All that mattered was feeling more of these sensations.

She moved her hands from his shoulders to his neck, touching the only skin she could find on him. He had removed his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt but other than that, he was still dressed as he was for his work day.

His hand moved slowly higher until his thumb rested just below her breast and Marabeth held her breath, waiting, desperately hoping it would move higher, needing his thumb to touch her breast.

When his hand finally moved higher, Marabeth inhaled sharply then arched her body against his. His hand massaged her breast, then his thumb flicked the already hard nipple.

Marabeth didn’t think she could take much more of the torture. Her hands gripped his hair as her body melted in his hands. A moment later, her sweatshirt was pulled over her head and his eyes were feasting on the lace holding her breasts. “You’re beautiful,” he groaned and his mouth closed over her left breast through the fabric of her bra.

“Stop, please, I can’t take anymore,” she cried out but her hands pulled him closer and her back arched even further to give him greater access.

“I know, we should stop,” he said but her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, quickly unbuttoning the small buttons, then ripping the fabric away. “No!” she cried out when her fingers reached the cotton of his tee-shirt underneath.

“Here,” he said and pulled both shirts out of the waistband of his pants. Marabeth needed no further prompting. Her hands slid the shirt off his shoulders and the tee-shirt over his head. When she finally had his chest free of the clothing, her eyes drank in the magnificent view of his muscular chest. There was only a small amount of hair to mar its perfection. Her hands ran the length of one muscle that disappeared into his pants. Marabeth had never been this bold before, but for some reason, Sam wasn’t the same. She didn’t want to be shy with him. She couldn’t.

“Don’t stop,” he groaned when she lifted her hand from his chest. “Please don’t stop,” he said and pulled her hands back onto his chest, then put his hand behind her head again to pull her lips to his.

Marabeth continued to allow her fingers to explore his chest while his lips moved across hers over and over again, his tongue moving in and out in the mating ritual. “I want you, Marabeth,” he said and his hand undid the clasp on her bra, freeing her breasts.

The cool air on her breasts gave her a moment of clear thinking and she was about to ask him to stop, fearful of the desire that was blurring her vision and muddling her mind. But then his hot mouth closed over her nipple and she could no longer speak. He sucked and licked, then bit gently and Marabeth could only wrap her arms around his head, holding him in place in an unspoken plea to continue his ministrations.

The phone rang which was the equivalent of dumping a bucket of ice water over Marabeth’s head. “Oh my goodness,” she gasped, leaning back and looking at Sam in astonishment. When he touched her again, she cringed, “No. Please, no more,” she said and quickly moved off his lap.

She bent down and grabbed her sweatshirt, covering herself before answering the phone. “Hello?” she asked.

The person at the other end of the line quickly relayed the message from her mother and Marabeth nodded. “That’s fine. Thank you,” she said and put the phone back in it’s cradle.

“Who was that?” Sam asked, directly behind her. She turned and was grateful to see that he’d put his tee-shirt and dress shirt back on and was buttoning it up before tucking it back into his waistband.

“It was my mother’s assistant letting me know that my mother will be attending the luncheon tomorrow.”

Sam nodded and waited while she turned her back and slipped her sweatshirt back on. “Don’t you need this?” he asked, and her face flamed red when she saw her black lace bra dangling from his large, masculine fingertips. She grabbed it and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans.

“Thank you,” she whispered and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Marabeth, will you please have dinner with me tomorrow night? We need to talk, work through a few details.”

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sam sighed and pulled her into his arms. “Are we back to that again?”

She leaned her head against his chest, wishing she had the strength to pull out of his arms. But he just felt too good. Just a moment, she told herself. She wanted to savor the feeling for just one moment longer. “Yes,” she sighed. “I really don’t want to go through with this wedding. I don’t want to be married to you.”