Can't Buy Me Love (13 page)

“I’ll give you anything you need,” Meg whispered.

“Anything?” Cole asked, a hint of playfulness reentering his voice.

His body pressed into her and his hands slide from her waist and cradled the curve of her hips.

His vulnerability and her warmth aroused in him a need—a need so deep to feel Meg’s body, hot, wet, and tight grasping for him—clinging to him.

“Anytime, anyplace,” Meg purred. Her fingertips danced around the edge of his collar at the back of his neck.

Once Cole locked his office door, he turned to see Meg now perched on his desk. Her crossed legs exposed long creamy white calves and much of her thigh. Her blue silk shirt pulled taut around her breasts.

“You’re making me an offer that I can’t refuse.”

A delicious smile passed over her lips and she looked up at him through her eyelashes like a coquette.

“I’m not sure we’ve completed our negotiations.”

Meg slid from his desk, tilted her head and flicked her tongue. The bit of soft pink lusciousness caressed her full bottom lip.

Heat roared through him. His cock hardened. Meg’s neck, Meg’s breasts, her legs, her ass—they were all for him. She waited on his desk for him to take her.

“Negotiations,” Cole said, his voice thick, “are closed.”

His restraint drained and in one motion he pulled her to him. Her body molded to his, as though built for him. His mouth clasped onto hers and Meg yielded to his need. Her mouth opened and her tongue caressed his mouth.

She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. Her hands clasped his cock, grasping and pulling, teasing and touching.

 He leaned one hand onto his desk, nearly toppled over by the pleasure that coursed through him.

“Perhaps I should be in charge,” Meg whispered, and gave his cock another long stroke.

He sucked in a breath over his teeth. His heart beat fast. He could care less who gave the orders as long as one of them included him burying himself inside her and soon.

He ran his hand up her leg and lifted her skirt. His fingers climbed up over her thighs to the warm wet spot he felt under her panties. Meg’s breath grew shallow as he pressed his fingers to her hot nub. He backed her into his desk, put both hands on her hips, and lifted her. He settled her onto his desk and once his fingers slipped under her panties her head rolled back immersed in pure pleasure. A low moan slid from her throat as he pressed two fingers inside her. She clamped down on him as he continued to rub over her slick nub.

He knelt before her and opened her legs. His tongue danced along the wetness of her sex. He stroked down one side of her lips and up the other—she tightened and thrilled. He paused at her entrance and kissed her wetness. She arched her back, her pussy pressing into him. His lips moved up and sucked on her most tender of spots. Flicking his tongue as he kissed. He teased her. He wanted to push her over the edge, to force her to cut loose.

She shuddered and rolled, her hips pressed forward. Her body rhythmically clamping down on his fingers. She was his entirely. Hot and wet he felt her come.

Meg’s eyes opened; heavy with lust, her black pupils filled the blue of her eye as a lazy smile drifted over her face. “I want you.”

 Only then did he free his cock. She opened her thighs to him. Her hands grasped him and a low breath rushed from his mouth. He forced himself still, when all his body wanted was to smash forward into her. To possess her. To be in her. To feel Meg wrapped around him holding him tight. Giving herself to him.

Her fingers danced over the head of his cock and her hands slid down his shaft. As the edge of him met her entrance he held his breath. With the tiniest of gasps she pressed forward and this was the only invitation his body needed. With one thrust he pushed inside her. The warmth of her body enveloped him, caressed him. Her muscles responded to him with the hard clamping that drew him in.

He grasped her back and pressed his mouth to hers. Pleasure coursed through him, but it was more than simple carnality. A deep awareness awakened in him. An abiding need he’d never before experienced and couldn’t explain. A need to hold Meg close, to keep her safe even at his own peril. She had to remain his. He couldn’t lose her. Not this woman. Not his Meg.

With a final thrust, he pressed into her. His body shuddered. She took all of him, her legs wrapped around his waist, and pulled him forward so there was no space between them. Where he stopped and she began he didn’t know. Her breath short, she let out a moan. As the release ran through him, he had one single thought.

Meg… Meg… Meg…

Chapter Seventeen

The backyard of Cole’s Bel Air home was a wonderland of lush green manicured lawns, sculptured bushes, and hand-crafted fountains. Splashes of colors from the floral beds captured the eye and pulled your gaze further into the paradise.

An exotic palette on which to build a fairy tail night. In less than a week Meg and Lauren, the party coordinator for the Comnet Charity Ball, would transform Cole’s outdoor gardens into the go-to spot for the majority of high-power execs in the media world. Meg and Lauren wandered out the French doors and onto the second-floor stone balcony overlooking the expanse.

“How is the new chef working out?” Meg asked.

“Exquisite. She has a tasting menu prepared for you in Mr. Jackson’s kitchen.”

Meg breathed in the late morning air. Unbeknown to everyone but Cole, this was her view each morning from his bedroom on the third floor—a view fit for a princess or even a queen. A view that until very recently Meg had never allowed herself to believe could be hers, perhaps for the rest of her life.

“How many tents?” Meg asked.

“We’ve ordered seven interconnected tents. The dance floor will be in the center.” Lauren pulled up the layout and digital sketches of the proposed interiors on her iPad.

“And the head count?”

“The final list is close to a thousand,” Lauren said.

“How close?”

“Nine hundred and eighty seven. The TBC invites went out under separate cover since that deal happened after the initial invites were sent. We have a number of RSVPs outstanding from the TBC execs.”

The FCC needed to approve the TBC/Comnet deal before it officially closed. And although there had been a meeting of the minds in Costa Rica, Meg wouldn’t feel completely comfortable until Comnet officially assumed ownership of TBC.

“If all the TBC execs say yes—”

“Which I’m sure they will.”

“Right, then we will be right at one thousand.” Lauren stroked her iPad, reviewing her list. “You know, I never got your RSVP. Will you be bringing a guest?”

A shiver raced up Meg’s spine.
Would she be bringing a guest?
How to answer
that
question? Meg and Cole had yet to go public and Cole thought that the ball was the ideal place to out their relationship. So much for gradual steps.

Meg tilted her head, and her gaze roamed the fairyland of a garden. Maybe they should let the world in on their secret. Maybe she should relax and enjoy this ride. Maybe she should believe the world outside these walls could be as lovely as this. She’d always said once she got her promotion she’d loosen her stranglehold on life.

“Are you ready for our review?” Lauren asked.

“Seems like you’ve got the event under control,” Meg said.

Lauren’s eyes widened. “You don’t want to evaluate everything? I have your action lists with addendums, your memos. I’ve addressed all your concerns—”

“Not necessary,” Meg said.

Lauren’s eyebrows knit together with near disappointment. Meg was willing to trust and let go. She needed to do that more often—sometimes her grip on life was so tight that her knuckles turned white.

All was right in her world, at least for now. Maybe there was no other shoe that would clatter to the floor.

Meg’s BlackBerry vibrated.

“Hello,” Meg said smoothly, excited to hear her new friend’s voice.

“Meg, it’s Allison Morton. Darling, I think we
may
have a problem.”

*

“It’s not that Stan doesn’t want to sell,” Allison said. Her shoulder-length blonde hair in loose curls framed her face. She wore a light coral-colored sweater and tan slacks. Her roundish frame fit her motherly nature and love of life. A sheltie jumped into her lap. Like big balls of fluff, two others lay on the brocade couch on either side of Allison while the latest addition plopped down onto her thighs. “It’s just, I don’t think Stan knows what he’ll do with himself when he sells TBC.”

How did you take a man who worked eighty hours a week for nearly forty-five years and then tell him to just stop? Meg supposed the task was nearly impossible.

“And then there’s that horrible man at Metro Media. What’s his name…Ryan…Ryan—”

“—Murphy?” Meg’s heart fluttered with the mention of Comnet’s biggest competitor. “Stan’s been speaking with Ryan Murphy?”

Allison nodded. “He fills Stan’s head with ridiculous thoughts. How you’re not
really
going to run TBC. How Cole’s merely made you president to woo Stan and that as soon as the ink’s dry on the deal he’ll oust you and put someone else in charge. Someone with more experience.”

Meg’s throat tightened. She reached for the glass of water on the table between them. Cole wouldn’t do that. Would he?

“Ryan offered Stan a seat on his board of directors if Stan were to pull out of the Comnet deal and sell to Metro Media instead.”

Meg’s head buzzed with Allison’s revelation. She couldn’t let the TBC deal fall apart.

“And what does Stan say?” Meg kept tight control of her voice, willing the panic she felt to stay firmly entrenched in her gut.

“I think he likes the idea of having something to work on each day instead of what he thinks he’ll do, which is putter around here.”

“I can’t imagine Stan puttering,” Meg said.

“Neither can I,” Allison exclaimed, and the sheltie on her lap looked up at her mistress’s face. Allison patted the dog’s head, and the pup quickly settled. “And he won’t. For goodness’ sake the man has a dozen grandchildren and a foundation. He has more golf buddies than I have friends. He will be busy and fulfilled and he’ll love his new life inside a month. There is only one problem.” Allison said.

“Convincing Stan of that?” Meg asked.

“Exactly! He can’t see it. He can’t see beyond his office, beyond TBC, beyond working each and every day as if it were his last. And god love him, I understand. I mean, look at this place! It’s a mansion of a house and we wouldn’t have it if Stan wasn’t driven. But it’s enough. I want Stan, not more mansions.” Allison stroked the dog on her lap.

“Would it help if he had an advisory role after the transition?” Meg couldn’t lose this deal. Lose Stan. If Cole realized Metro Media was actually attempting to woo TBC away and put Stan Morton on their board, he’d flip.

“Perhaps,” Allison said.

“I’ll discuss it with Cole,” Meg said. “Stan is an amazing businessman. I can’t imagine Cole not wanting him on the board.”

“Thank you, Meg. I knew you’d understand.”

Chapter Eighteen

Anxiety, oily and slick, clung to Meg’s gut. Her heart fluttered a beat too fast, her palms moist. After her conversation this afternoon with Allison, she couldn’t shake the idea that maybe what Ryan Murphy told Stan was accurate. Maybe Cole would replace her once the TBC deal closed.

“You’re quiet tonight.”

Meg looked up from her uneaten slice of mozzarella and tomato pizza.

They intended a quiet night at home—well, Cole’s home—with the staff gone and a movie from Netflix on their agenda.

 “Just thinking about TBC,” Meg said.

Cole stood. His bare feet pattered across the marble kitchen floor as he walked toward the sub-zero refrigerator. She still harbored questions that wove their way into the darkest part of her psyche.

“I wonder if there’s dessert?” Cole opened the refrigerator door.

“An entire tray,” Meg said, her voice distant. “From the charity ball tasting today.”

Metal slid over glass as Cole removed the tray from the refrigerator.

“Chocolate or berries?” he asked as he lifted a tiny berry tart and a chocolate flourless torte from the tray.

He was so carefree—why wasn’t
he
concerned about their relationship? Perhaps because his heart wasn’t nearly as invested.

“Neither.”

Cole resettled into the chair across from her, sweet in hand and an impish grin on his face. An impish, boyish, charming grin that most nights would cause her to smile or plop onto his lap and kiss each corner of his mouth.

But tonight that impish grin caused sinister thoughts to boil in her belly, churning alongside the oily anxiousness coiled tight.

Cole bit into the flourless chocolate torte. “You sure know how to pick a chef,” he said around a mouth filled with pastry.

 “Really? Is
that
what I’m good at? The domestic arts and sending your shirts to the cleaners?” She knew her voice sounded shrill, but she couldn’t quell the insecurities that fueled her tone.

Cole stopped midchew. His brows pulled together as if puzzled by her comment, her tone. “You know, I’m not sure. You’ve never cooked for me and the valet takes care of my shirts as of late.”

Meg looked up toward the ceiling and pursed her lips together. She inhaled but she couldn’t reign in her fears. The pit in her stomach deepened with each question, each thought. Perhaps Cole
was
merely using her to get what he wanted—much like executives had used her mother.

“What’s bothering you, Meggy?” Cole reached for her hand. “TBC? The new job? Your new boyfriend?” He kissed her fingertips. “All of the above?”

She shook her head. The warmth of his touch reassured her. She was being ridiculous. Her fears were ill-founded. Ryan’s comments were a desperate attempt to ruin the TBC−Comnet deal.

Her eyes softened with the concern in Cole’s face. Of course their relationship meant as much to Cole as it did to her. Besides, there was still an important nugget of information taken from her meeting at Allison’s home. A nugget they needed to discuss.