Twisted Rogue (The Twisted Love and Rogue Love Collection) (11 page)

“I understand your concerns, Grace. I want you to know I like you very much. You are beautiful, intelligent, funny, humble, and so filled with life. Spending time with you has been a balm on my tired, bitter soul. I cannot be good and simple though. I am bad for you. I…cannot make you promises.” He looked into my eyes with a pleading expression, trying to convey something that wasn’t fitting into his words.

I nodded and choked back the tears that were forming behind my eyes. I didn’t want him to know how weak he made me. “I don’t understand you,” I whispered.

The waiter returning with our bottle of wine cut off Blake Harrison’s response. He poured us each a generous glass and left the bottle on the table. I quickly grabbed the glass and took a gulp, trying to drown my worries in the expensive alcohol. It was smooth and spicy, and left me feeling happier and fuzzier than before.

Blake Harrison took smaller sips of the expensive wine, watching me with his piercing eyes as I almost downed the entire glass before the waiter arrived with our food. The waiter had brought us an assortment of small plates to try, and each one looked more beautiful than the last. They resembled art more than food, and I wasn’t sure if everything was actually edible.

After the waiter left, Blake Harrison explained the concept of molecular gastronomy to me. Apparently, everything on the plates was edible, despite the illusion that it wasn’t food. As Blake Harrison explained the complex scientific processes behind each dish, we started to taste each of the components on the first plate. I was surprised that anything so beautiful could also taste so incredibly fresh and delicate.

By the time we had finished the meal, and our bottle of wine, I was feeling full, happy, and more than a little bit tipsy. Blake Harrison held onto my arm, leading me out of the restaurant with small careful steps to stop me from tumbling over. He seemed amused that I was such a lightweight, but I didn’t care. I smiled happily as the car pulled up to the curb and we climbed into the back seat.

“I wanted to take you shopping for some new clothes, but I think you might be too drunk for that tonight,” Blake Harrison said, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen into my face behind my ear. “Would it be alright if I called and had some outfits delivered for you?”

“You spoil me too much. I’m not a princess,” I protested, but I couldn’t help smiling at his generosity and the way he looked at me.

“No, you aren’t a princess,” he agreed. “You are a fairy, a pixie. You are wild, and innocent, and you enchant me. I don’t think you even realize the spell you are casting.”

I lay my head on Blake’s broad shoulder, feeling the comfort of his warm muscular body as I closed my eyes. It had been a long day and I was still confused about what exactly I meant to him, but when I felt his strong arm wrap around me and pull me close, it was as if my every concern became a silly background to my current emotions. I was happy, and I was snuggled up with Blake Harrison, the most attractive, intelligent, and complex man I had ever met. That was all that mattered.

I must have slept soundly the whole trip back, because I all I remembered was briefly waking up as Blake Harrison picked me up in his strong arms and carried me through the front door. I blinked in confusion, but my eyes were still heavy with sleep and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in my bed, to sunlight pouring in through the window.

I stretched and pulled myself upright, immediately regretting that action. My head was pounding and the bright sunlight only made it hurt worse. I groaned and rolled over, looking away from my window. A tall glass of water and bottle of aspirin were waiting for me on my nightstand.

With a great deal more effort than I thought should have been necessary, I pulled myself upright and popped two pills in my mouth, washing them down with the entire glass of water. I stumbled into the bathroom, hoping my headache would be gone soon. After a hot shower, I felt much more human and my roaring headache had settled into a dull ache in the back of my head.

I pulled on a light blue sundress and white cardigan, then made my way down to the kitchen for some much-needed carbs to soak up the wine that was still sloshing around in my belly.

“Hello dear, you look surprisingly lovely for someone with a horrible hangover,” Jane laughed good-naturedly as I stumbled into the kitchen, blinking at the harsh morning light that poured in from the huge glass windows. “Mr. Harrison warned me you might be a little worse for the wear and wanted to be sure you ate a whole plate of this.” She handed me a heaping plate of French toast with syrup and sliced strawberries.

I mumbled my thanks and grabbed myself some coffee, gulping it down between heaping bites of the warm, eggy bread. By the time I was finished, I felt stuffed but much more awake and healthy. The food had managed to soak up the rest of the alcohol in me and I felt ready to be a useful human being once again.

“Jane, do you know where Blake…I mean, Mr. Harrison, is?”

Jane smiled knowingly at me, her faded eyes twinkling with a secret. “He is up in his office. I’m sure he would love for you to stop by,” she replied, bringing my dish to the sink for me.

I thanked her and hurried up the stairs and down the long hallway to Blake Harrison’s office. His door was closed, but I could hear faint music from inside. I knocked gently, suddenly worried that he would be annoyed with my drunkenness and sleeping late.

“Come in,” his deep voice called from inside. His tone was calm and smooth, untouched by the sharpness of anger. I sighed in relief.

Pushing the door open, I saw Blake Harrison, wearing faded designer jeans and a t-shirt that showed off his muscular physique, standing behind his desk next to piles of designer boxes and bags. Logos covered everything, from Prada to LV to Hermes. I gasped at the sheer magnitude of it. Whatever was in all those bags and boxes must have cost a fortune.

“Come here, I want to show you some things I had delivered for you. Be honest if you like them or not. I want to make sure you are happy with everything.”

“These are all for me?” I looked around, my eyes wide with disbelief. Each one of these items probably cost more than my entire wardrobe and there were dozens of them.

Blake Harrison didn’t respond, but started opening the first box. Inside was a short, pink silk dress. It looked like a casual sundress, but was far more beautiful and well-made than anything I owned. I couldn’t help reaching out to touch the soft, lush silk.

“Try it on for me,” Blake Harrison said. It sounded like a command, but his eyes were soft and happy, posing the question to me. I nodded and quickly pulled off my cardigan and dress. I suddenly felt self-conscious, standing there in my Walmart bra and panties in front of Blake Harrison.

“Oh, but first, try these on as well.” He pushed aside a few boxes until he found the one he was looking for, the box emblazoned with Agent Provocateur. He pulled out the most exquisite pair of lacey black panties and a matching bra. I had never seen anything so sexy in my life.

I blushed, but reached out and took them, turning to the wall as I slipped out of my current underwear and into the gorgeous, sexy lingerie. I felt like a girl playing with woman’s things, but the look in Blake Harrison’s eyes when I turned around emboldened me.

I put my hand on my hip and jutted it out to the side, tossing my head to the side so he could see my long, dark curls tumbling down my back. “You like this?” I asked coyly, surprised at my own daring.

Blake Harrison’s eyes flashed darkly. He licked his lips and took a small step towards me. “You have no idea what you are doing to me, Grace.” He reached his hand up and gently traced down my throat to my plumped up cleavage, then down my side to my slender waist. He stopped there, then pulled his hand back.

“Put that dress on, before I ravage you right now. I want you to try all your new clothes on first.”

I felt a quick sting of disappointment as he pulled back from me, but feeling the soft pink silk in my hands perked me right back up. I pulled the gentle fabric over my head and let if fall into place over my body, draping and cascading around me in flattering folds.

“You look beautiful,” Blake said to me as his eyes travelled over my body. He took my hand and led me over to the long mirror on his wall. I looked into the glass and was surprised at the girl who looked back at me. She looked refined and sophisticated in the short silk dress that flattered her slender curves and brought out the rosy blush in her cheeks.

I couldn’t hide my excitement. “I love it! Thank you so much!” I turned and threw my arms around Blake Harrison’s neck, hugging him tightly. He pulled me towards him, his strong muscles pressing tightly against my soft body. I wanted him to kiss me deeply right then, push me onto his desk and fuck me hard. Instead, he just kissed the top of my head and then pulled out the next outfit for me to try on.

I tried on everything in the room, from expensive business clothes, to gorgeous gowns and more casual wear. Everything was expensive designer clothing and fit me perfectly. I wondered how Blake Harrison knew my exact size and style, but clearly his eyes saw more than I had realized. After I finally tried on the last outfit, a glittering gold bandage dress that flattered my body but made me feel a bit nervous, Blake Harrison announced that it was time for lunch.

“We are going to have a picnic today. I think some fresh air would do you good.” His eyes sparkled in amusement as I blushed, remembering my raging hangover.

“But don’t we have to work?” I protested.

“We are taking the day off. You deserve a break, after working so hard on the launch party.”

I changed back into the pink silk dress and then followed Blake Harrison down to the kitchen. There was already a picnic basket waiting for us on the table, covered in a perfect red-and-white checked tablecloth.

Blake picked up the basket and then offered me his arm with a charming smile. I laughed, putting my arm in his and followed him as we strode out the side entrance and into the warm sunlight of the perfect early autumn day. As we strolled through the gardens and down the sloping hill to the orchards, Blake told me about his plans for the new ad campaign he had secured for a rapidly growing, up-and-coming tech company. I listened with interest to his plans on highlighting honesty and reliability and focusing the campaign on the stories of real-hardworking people.

“Like the people in Mercy River,” I murmured as we stopped by the edge of the orchard.

“Yes, exactly!” he replied, putting the basket on the ground and spreading out the tablecloth and the grass. “Maybe you know some people who would be interested in being in a commercial?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied, stumbling over the words with a heavy blush rising to my cheeks. “I’m not sure if I’m exactly on good terms with anyone there at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” He looked at me inquisitively as he pulled the food from wicker basket and laid it out on the cloth.

“Well, the reason I left was a big disagreement with my parents and my boyfriend. Well, my ex boyfriend. We had a fundamental disagreement over morals. And religion. Mostly religion.”

The now familiar black cloud passed over Blake Harrison’s face and he looked away from me, towards the long orchard beside us.

“I understand,” he said finally. “I’m glad you got away from there. From all of that.” He looked back towards me and his face was soft again. “Come on, have some cheese and crackers. You can even pick a fresh apple to go with it!”

Blake Harrison picked me up and boosted me on his shoulder so I could pick us the two biggest, roundest apples on the closest tree.  We settled on the blanket with our apples and cheese and crackers, and spent a good hour discussing our favorite works of literature. Blake was convinced that the Anglo-American tradition had produced the greatest works of literature with its narrative complexities and wit, while I contended that he was greatly overlooking some of my favorite French authors and their revelation of the historical nature of the human condition in all its concern with past and future, not just the narrative channel in the moment of the book.

It was already late afternoon by the time we got back to the towering mansion. The place that had once seemed an imposing castle was now starting to feel like home to me. I glanced up at Blake Harrison’s chiseled face and realized that my mercurial boss and new lover was the closest thing left I had to family. I felt a pang in my heart, thinking back to everyone back in Mercy River, but the warm glow of my feelings for Blake Harrison crowded out the pain.