The Commitment (14 page)

Tell him what? That she was falling in love with him? No.

She leaned against the counter as she sipped her drink. His head, hair tousled and chin needing a shave, was inclined toward the magazine on the table in front of him. One hand scratched Pumpkin's large head. An unbidden memory surfaced. It reminded her of the pleasures that very hand had given her.

Miranda gulped then choked as the hot liquid seared her throat.

"Are you all right?" Drake's eyes bore into her as the cough subsided.

Her mind screamed no at the same time she nodded. "I, um, guess I'll go back to bed." She rinsed her mug and set it into the sink for morning. Her hand shook as he came up behind her.

His body's warmth radiated toward her. She focused on not arching back to meet it. His breath glanced across the nape of her neck. The tiny hairs tingled and danced.

She held her hands clasped together, determined not to reach around for him. When his arms came around her, she gave up. She turned to face him.

What else could she do? Whenever she fought the desire to be in his arms, desire won.

In spite of his high-handed ways she'd fallen in love with him. Even so, pride demanded that the last thing she should do was allow more intimacy.

He didn't kiss her. Except for that tick in his left cheek you would think his face was carved from stone.

"What will you do when the thirty days are up?" His voice throbbed low and deep across the scant inches between them.

She put a hand to her abdomen. "It depends."

"What if you aren't pregnant?"

She swallowed hard. "It depends," was the only thing she could think of to say.

To her surprise he did not pull her closer, didn't try to kiss her or touch her or do any of the things she knew she shouldn't want but wanted all the same. He regarded her with those gray eyes. A slight frown creased his brow. He took a step back, then another.

If Miranda didn't know the man better she'd think he was unsure of something. Impossible. Drake had the original license for "sure of himself." He never showed weakness. Retreating was out of character, like water running up hill. At any other time it would be amusing.

His next words sobered her. "We should remain married regardless of your condition."

"Words every romantically-notioned girl wants to hear," she said. Her fingers grabbed at the counter behind her. "Why?"

He stopped pacing. "You know the answer."

Irritation gave her strength. "I can think of any number of reasons. All to your benefit. Let's see, how about so you won't look like a fool for losing a second wife who just happens to be the sister of your first?"

"I don’t care what people say." His toneless voice should have warned her, but she was on a roll.

"Well, there's all my stock and vaunted business expertise. You'd hate to lose all that, wouldn't you?"

"True." He took a step in her direction.

She backed to the door. "Then there's the fact that I know more about you now than I did a week ago. That makes me too valuable to let me go. That's the real reason, isn't it, Drake? I know more of your personal and professional secrets than anyone does. That scares you. You know that knowledge is power. It makes me quite the hot commodity in today's market. Don’t you agree?"

On that parting shot she reached around her for the doorknob. Unfortunately she'd lost track of Pumpkin while she was shouting. Instead of smooth porcelain, her hand met wet dog nose. It distracted her.

In the instant she took to look down at Pumpkin and wipe her hand against her jeans, Drake had her. In one quick movement he trapped he against the door.

At least I reached the door, she thought with a panicky sense of humor. She fought against the delightful ache that possessed her as Drake's hard body pressed against her.

She looked into his eyes. They were storm-dark with emotion. A tremor ran through him.

He's afraid, she realized.

"Why don't you want me to leave?" she whispered.

"For all the reasons you so succinctly stated."

"And?"

He stared into her eyes. His gaze dropped to her lips. She licked them wet.

Then he changed the way he held her. The subtle shift made her breath quicken.

"And?" she asked again.

"Because," he growled, "we haven't made love while sober yet." His lips claimed hers.

Drake felt Miranda's initial resistance face, then vanish all together. He'd almost lost his composure, his will to keep her off guard. Now with her soft moans against his mouth and her hands grasping his shoulders, he struggled with a different type of composure. He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.

He wanted her. He needed to possess this woman who stood toe to toe with him and gave as good as she got. The fact that he would lose himself in her terrified him. He kept his thoughts to himself. To reveal such weakness wasn't his way. Never had been. Why change now? He'd learned this lesson the hard way.

Pumpkin whined. He butted his head against Drake's thigh in an effort to wedge himself between Drake and Miranda. The movement knocked them close together. It forced Drake's thighs to rub against Miranda's. He soft breasts pushed against his chest. He was aware of the peaks, hard where they pressed against the fabric and him.

The look she gave him, hot, needy and slightly frightened, melted the last of his resolve. She put her hands on either side of his face before she reached up to kiss him.

With a groan he drowned himself in her taste, her scent, the feel of her soft rounded body pressed against his need.

He picked her up. Their mouths pressed together. Her legs came up and wrapped around his waist. Pushing her against the door, he reached beneath her robe. The bunched up fabric of her nightgown was in the way. He shoved it aside.

The groan she uttered when he reached the moist warmth of her womanhood made him harder. He'd explode if he didn't have her soon.

The floor would have to do.

Chapter Fifteen

Drake lowered Miranda to the floor. Everything was going great until Pumpkin decided he didn't want to be left out. Drake came close to losing his grip on Miranda as he struggled to push away the dog while continuing his seductive assault on her.

Pumpkin growled. He poked his nose into Drake's cheek. Drake's feet slid out from under him. The next thing he knew, he was at the bottom of a heap with Miranda and the dog collapsed on top of him.

So much for seduction.

Miranda hiccupped then squealed. "Get off, Pumpkin." Her voice came out breathless, hoarse.

After Drake helped push the dog away he took a deep breath and looked at Miranda. Her flushed face, swollen lips, and bright eyes had him reaching for her all over again.

"I think Pumpkin came to my rescue just in time," she said. Her calm gaze belied her rapid breathing.

Drake's heart plummeted. He was sure that if he had the chance to make love to her again, sober without anything to "blame", that she'd agree to stay with him.

Damn that dog.

The offending beast chose now to lie down. He kept his gaze on Drake and Miranda.

Probably happy to keep us separated, Drake thought. Just what he needed, a jealous dog. He'd gotten Miranda away from her apartment complex full of nosy neighbors. He'd brought the dog along because she wouldn't have stayed a single night without him. Now what happens? Instead of being grateful for his good fortune the huge hairy beast sabotaged Drake's one chance in days to seduce his wife.

Drake got to his feet, lending a hand to Miranda as he rose. Her wrinkled brow had him grinning. She grinned back. As the idiocy of the situation hit them both, laughter followed.

"This dog is better than a chastity belt," Drake gasped when he stopped laughing long enough to speak.

"A virtual knight in furry armor," Miranda said. Another bout of giggles overtook her.

Drake stepped closer. He reached for her. "Let's try that again."

She stopped laughing. The hand she placed against his chest was firm. "No. I was serious when I said it was a good thing Pumpkin stopped us."

Cold air, a draft perhaps, touched the hands Drake had reaching for her. He looked down at her left hand that lay on his chest. The rings pressed against him and at the same time held him away.

"We're husband and wife. Why shouldn't we?"

She stepped back. "It's all a ruse, Drake. I don’t like being played with."

"I'm not playing house with you." More than sexual frustration colored his voice, deepened its tone. He couldn't tell her how important she'd become to him. If he told her, she'd laugh it off. He couldn't chance it.

"Then what were you doing just then?" She turned a now angry face away from him and headed for the door.

"What do you want, Miranda?" It was the only thing he could think of to say. Miraculously, she stopped.

In a quiet voice, she said, "I want a marriage based on love and respect, trust and friendship. A marriage where making love is an act of completion, not an act of sex. I want a marriage where making love is the icing on an already gourmet cake. That's all I want. I won't settle for anything less."

With her back straight she left Drake standing alone in the brightness of the stainless steel kitchen. Pumpkin followed her.

Sudden tightness caught the back of Drake's throat. He'd never felt more alone.

* * * *

After a night of listening to the wind blow, Miranda was glad to hear the nagging beep of her alarm clock. A glimpse outside showed her at least a foot of new fallen snow. The sun shone fitfully through low clouds. Wind blew feathers of frozen particles against objects in its path.

Thankful for the wool pantsuit hanging in the closet, she dressed then took Pumpkin outside to take care of his morning business. Hot coffee greeted her in the kitchen. Drake's presence consisted of a grunt when she said good morning. He looked like he'd been up for hours, his face had a tight, strained appearance even though he looked just as sexy like that as when he was relaxed and composed.

It seemed that Pumpkin had been the only one to get a decent night's sleep. She amused herself with a ridiculous image of Pumpkin dressed in a pinstriped suit.

"What have you got to be so happy about?" Drake grumbled. He didn't give her a chance to answer. "Here are the phony specs for you to entice Jones with.

Miranda took the sheet of paper from him and sat in the chair across the table. Much of it was derived from their meeting yesterday with Alice. The paper held facts and figures and the briefest of proposals for developing new computer software reliant on micro disk technology. It was even printed on Millennium Tech logo stationary. Drake had put hours into this piece of paper that was meant to trap his competitor. A tiny line in the footer of the paper caught her attention. It showed that the file had originally been created over a year ago. Nice touch.

Frowning, Miranda freshened her coffee and returned to the information in front of her. Analysis was her forte, this information intrigued her.

The rasping bark of Pumpkin asking to come in broke her concentration. She looked up to see the unlikely sight of Drake, in dress shirt and tie, wiping down the snow-covered dog with a thick towel. His hands rubbed until Pumpkin was mostly dry, and then he bent to clean the snow from between the dog's pads.

The care lavished on her dog mesmerized Miranda. Except for the unforgettable night they'd spent together, she'd never experienced his tender side.

Heat crept up her neck as she thought about that night. So much sheer passion. Was that what had been missing in her other relationships with men?

Answering warmth began between her legs. At just that moment, Drake turned his head and caught her watching him. The warmth in his eyes mimicked the very real sensations of her body.

She licked her lips and almost gave herself whiplash as she refocused on the paper in front of her. Words swam around making no sense. What had she been thinking of before she had looked at Drake?

Breathe, she commanded.

Technology and timing--that was it. But Drake had changed a few of the details that they'd hashed out with Alice yesterday. Forcing her voice not to show any emotion, she asked, "Just what are we trying to give away?"

Drake came to loom behind her. She felt the heat from his body only inches away from her back.

"It's something I've worked on, off and on, for a while. No big deal. I had to make it look like something we already had in the works or Jones would be suspicious."

"I had no idea you worked the technical side of the business, too."

"I couldn't very well run a successful business without knowing all aspects, could I? I've got to know every detail about our products before attending trade shows or conventions in order to attract customers and keep current clients happy."

Interested more in Drake than in the specs in front of her, Miranda turned in her chair. Mistake. The move put her nose on level with the center of his trousers.

She fought off another blush. "When did you step away from the design work and focus on the business end?"

"A couple of years before you came on board."

"And this?" She waved the paper at him.

"A hobby, just something I fool around with from time to time."
"This is breakthrough work, Drake. I can't agree to put something too important to both you and Millennium Tech on the line." It was true. This design was brilliant if she was any judge; and she was.

Drake leaned over her shoulder. The clean scent of him made her nostrils flare. It was all she could do not to lean into him.

He said, "The stakes are already high. If you do your job right, nothing is at risk."

"If I blow it?"

"Don't."

The single word chilled her. Its simplicity said volumes about who was taking the biggest risk in this venture. It also spoke loudly that he trusted her not to fail. She had a reputation for working well under pressure, but the stakes of this project were higher than she'd ever imagined. Millennium Tech's future, her future, and Drake's future all revolved around her giving Bob Jones a convincing performance later today.