Hoodwinked (17 page)

He shook his head. “I'll have supper out.” He frowned. “Cooking is something you won't do much of after we're married. I like having a French chef in the kitchen. We'll have maids, too, and a housekeeper. You'll have time to enjoy yourself and do what you like. No more working. You can put in your notice today.”

She started to speak, but he was already giving Harry instructions. She sat back, worrying. He was mapping out a very unsatisfactory future for her. She loved him, and she wanted very much to live with him and be his wife. But he was going to rob her of
the things she'd always expected to go with that wonderful dream of being a wife and mother.

He was going to surround her with servants, take away her job and make her into a homebody. That wasn't bad, of course, and she'd enjoy some leisure time. But what was she going to do with her days? He seemed to be always on the move, and business might keep him away for days or weeks at a time. It was going to be a hard enough life with those absences, without having too much free time to brood over missing him.

She didn't say another word about it, but she went back to her office in a brown study, with her heart around her ankles. Life had been so much simpler when she was engaged to a mechanic who came home on time every day and liked to go bowling in an old rusted-out pickup truck.

C
harlene sneaked out of MacFaber's office and into Maureen's while he was occupied with his one o'clock appointment, on the pretext of getting herself a cup of coffee.

She closed the door quickly behind her and just stood there, shaking her head. “The detective, you said?” she reminded her friend, with great, curious eyes.

Maureen had had her head in her hands and she barely looked up. “You aren't any more surprised than I am. First I thought he was an industrial spy. Then I thought he was a mechanic. Then I thought he was the private detective. In the meantime, he was eating breakfast with me and playing with my parrot and taking me to the movies.” She stared blankly at Charlene. “He didn't
look
like a millionaire.”

“No wonder you were so white in the face,” Charlene said, grinning. “My gosh, MacFaber himself! You're the ninth wonder of the world this afternoon, and I'm a celebrity because I'm your friend.” She laughed. “One of the girls in the typing pool wants to know if she can have your autograph. She said to tell you that she believes in fairy tales, now.”

Maureen smiled in spite of herself. “It might seem like one, but it's a lot more difficult to live up to Prince Charming than you might think. He took me to lunch at one of those expensive restaurants and people looked at him like they thought he was crazy.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Now, there's a possibility.”

“MacFaber isn't crazy. He makes other people crazy,” Charlene assured her. “Can I see your ring?”

Maureen held out her hand. The diamond caught the light and exploded into color like a prism of ice.

“It's incredible,” Charlene exclaimed with a sigh.

“My life is incredible.” Maureen shook her head. “I can't imagine how I'm going to cope. I love him, you know, but it's going to be pure culture shock.”

“All you have to do is smile and spend money,” Charlene assured her.

But after the other woman had gone, Maureen's smile fell into a frown. Money wasn't that important in her life. Love was. She wanted Jake to herself. She didn't want to have to share him with business, so that she came out on the short end of the stick as far as time shares went. She wanted to go places with him and have time to just sit and talk. She wanted to relax with him in the evenings. All that would have satisfied her a lot more than the latest designer dresses and plenty of spending money. She had a feeling that millionaires' wives were the loneliest people on earth.

She typed out her resignation and, since she had no one to give it to, she laid it on Mr. Blake's old desk before she went home. She patted her little VW as she got into it and had a sudden cold thought that it would be one of the casualties of her new life-style, because
Jake Edwards might not have minded it in his driveway, but she was sure Joseph MacFaber wasn't going to want it in his garage next to the Rolls.

“Don't you worry,” she told it when she parked it in the driveway, patting its faded dash. “I'll hide you out in the woods if I have to, but they're not going to consign you to the garbage dump.”

She went into the apartment and fed Bagwell, who enthused over the carrot she'd cut up for him and made soft purring sounds to himself as he ate it.

She ruffled his green head and cooked herself a bowl of chili. It would have been nice if she'd had someone to eat it with.

As she savored her spicy meal, she wished her parents were still alive. It would have been nice to call and tell them about her engagement, about Jake. They'd have asked about him, and she'd have told them that he was very handsome and very strong and that he had a kind heart. Then they'd have asked if he could support her, and she'd have smiled as she told them what he did for a living.

The thought made her sad. Tears ran down her cheeks and fell onto the place mat. It seemed ironic that a person could wait years for something incredible to happen, and then when it did, there was nobody to tell.

She washed her bowl and poured herself another cup of coffee. The one bright spot in her life was that Jake was going to marry her. She looked at the engagement ring glittering on her finger and smiled, pressing her lips to it. He wanted to spend his life with her and give her children. She flushed, remembering what he'd said the day before, his body so tender as it overwhelmed hers, his hands gentle,
preparing her for the shock of possession. It had been easier than she'd ever dreamed and more powerful and awesome than anything she'd ever felt. She was his now, and he was hers. Even if she only saw him once in a while, it was enough that she could live with him. And he did want her, if nothing else. Maybe someday he'd even learn to love her.

It was almost midnight when he knocked on her kitchen door. She was still wearing her jeans and T-shirt, curled up on the couch watching the late show since the next morning was Saturday. Bagwell's cage was covered and he was asleep.

“You look terrible,” she told the weary man outside the door.

“I feel terrible,” he said, even his voice drooping. “I've just now got out of another meeting. You can't imagine how complicated it is to have a production error that isn't found in the early stages of testing.”

She stood back to let him enter the apartment. His tie was hanging loosely around his neck and his jacket was looped over his shoulder by a finger. His shirt was open at the throat. His dark eyes were bloodshot and there were new lines in his broad, deeply tanned face.

“Do you want coffee, or would you rather lay your head in my lap and go to sleep?” she asked gently.

He pulled her against him and kissed her with lazy tenderness. “Can I have both?”

“With my blessing.”

She poured him a cup of black coffee and watched him slump beside her on the sofa. His thick dark hair was tousled. He had a shadow of beard on his square jaw. He looked as if he'd been run over by a big truck, and she said so.

He laughed. “I guess I do. I feel that way. Damned red tape.” He sipped his coffee with his eyes barely open. “The blood test is at ten in the morning. We can't forget.”

“We won't.” She smoothed back his unruly hair, loving the freedom to touch him. “Poor, tired man.”

He caught her hand and pressed it to lips that were hot from the coffee. “I've never had anyone to come home to before.” His head turned and his dark eyes searched her face. “It feels nice, Maureen.”

“I'm glad. I've never had anyone come home to me before, and that feels nice, too,” she said, smiling at him. “I thought I'd live and die alone.” Her eyes lowered to the neck of his shirt, and she was amazed at how easy it was to talk to him. She wasn't even embarrassed about the intimacy they'd shared. It seemed natural and right, a part of their togetherness. “I can get contact lenses, if you'd like,” she ventured. “They might improve me a little.”

“You don't need improving,” he replied, smiling back at her. “I like you as you are, glasses and all.”

That lifted her spirits. “How about if I have my hair permed and tinted green and pink, then?” she added with a grin. “I could throw wild parties with punk-rock themes and make your name a household word.”

He laughed. It surprised him that he should do it so easily with her, when he'd hardly laughed in his life before she came along. “I don't care what you do,” he replied. “But I'm not tinting my hair pink and green for you.”

“It would bring you closer to your employees.”

“Certainly—they'd be after me with a fishnet!”

She laid her head against his big arm with a sigh. “I'm a different person when I'm with you,” she remarked quietly. “You bring out qualities I didn't know I had. I'm really very shy around people as a rule.”

“You were shy last night, kitten,” he whispered at her temple. “Most of the time, anyway.”

She flushed and buried her face against him. “Stop.”

She looked up into his eyes with those memories in hers, too. “How could you be that tender after two whole years of going without a woman?” she asked huskily.

“You were a virgin,” he said simply. His mouth brushed hers softly. “I couldn't very well put my own pleasure above yours, could I?”

“From what I've read, some men do.”

“I care about you,” he whispered. He teased her mouth with his. “Was it what you expected?”

“Not really,” she confessed shyly. “I could never have imagined doing that outside in broad daylight.”

“We were safe enough. No one ever visits either one of us, and there aren't any curious neighbors or children around. We're very secluded here.” He searched her eyes and his own began to darken. “I enjoyed you more than you'll ever know. But I want you to know that I didn't plan what happened between us. I never meant it to go that far, but once I felt your body against mine with nothing in the way, it was just impossible for me to stop.”

She smiled to herself. “Every time I remember what we did last night, I want you again,” she whispered.

His hand caught her hair and held her head where he wanted it as he bent and covered her mouth with his. He brought her closer, building the kiss until she was as hungry as he was, until his tongue penetrated her mouth and she moaned, wanting his hands on her.

“I want you, too,” he whispered into her mouth. “But this is all we're going to do. If you want me again, you're going to have to marry me first.”

“Blackmail,” she moaned.

“Call it what you will.” His mouth bit into hers roughly and then he sat up and finished his coffee. “I can't remember when I was this tired. I've got to have some sleep.” He looked down at her with a rueful smile. “I don't want to go home, but if I stay here, we'll have each other before morning. I can't sit within a foot of you without catching fire.”

“That's very flattering.”

“It's very incapacitating, too,” he said, grinning.

She laughed as he stood up and stretched lazily. “You can sleep until nine, and I'll phone you. We'll get our blood tests and apply for the license—”

“It's Saturday,” she pointed out.

“I'm a millionaire,” he reminded her. “Money opens doors.”

“I guess it does,” she said vaguely.

“Besides all that, Saturday isn't a national holiday.”

She made a face at him. “Don't expect me to think. I've had a shocking day.”

“And a shocking night before it?” he mused.

She glared. “You weren't always experienced,” she accused.

“No, I wasn't. My first time, I chickened out and ran,” he confessed with a chuckle. “I don't know who was more shocked—the woman or me.”

“Obviously there was a next time,” she murmured, lowering her eyes. “You know too much for a man who's never indulged.”

“I'm a man,” he said, pulling her up to stand in front of him. “I had to learn how to be one. But I never got a woman pregnant or seduced virgins.” He smiled ruefully. “Until yesterday, anyway.”

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound jealous.”

“I like having you jealous,” he said quietly. “And if you want the truth, there haven't been that many women. I've been very selective, and I haven't wanted a close relationship. Not until you came along and knocked me off my feet.”

“I'm not pretty.”

“Honey, you're a knockout,” he said, his voice deep and velvety. “It's what's inside that makes you beautiful. You've got a heart the size of Kansas, and when you love, you do it with your soul. I wouldn't trade you for Helen of Troy.”

“Oh, Jake,” she whispered.

He kissed her roughly and pushed her away. “Stop looking at me like that,” he ground out. “I'm already shaking, I want you so badly.”

“We could—”

“No, we couldn't,” he said shortly. “I'll let myself out. Go to bed. We've got a big day ahead of us.”

He turned toward the door, but he hesitated at it, regretting his sharp tone. “Men get grumpy when they're frustrated,” he said uncomfortably. “I didn't mean to snap at you.”

“I know,” she said and smiled gently. “Good night.”

He caught his breath at the radiance in her face. His dark eyes slid over her body in the simple T-shirt and jeans, and he almost groaned aloud remembering how it looked and felt and tasted without clothing. He remembered her eyes looking up at him, wide with wonder and pleasure, the sounds breaking from her tight throat, the feel of her soft hands on the strained muscles of his back…