Little White Lies (16 page)

Jack met her heated gaze without a hint of emotion.  “I wasn’t worried about how he felt about you, Miranda; I was more concerned about how
you
felt about him.”

He watched her eyes flicker as she floundered for something to say.  When nothing came to her, she simply turned on her heels and stomped out of the room.  He figured she would take a few minutes to compose herself then come back and offer an apology along with the excuse he’d made her so mad she didn’t know how to respond. But the fact that she hadn’t tried to deny anything spoke volumes as to how deeply her emotions ran. 

And Miranda had as much as admitted it when she was talking to her sister, but the real proof was in her unreasonable reaction to a question that could have been brushed aside with a light-hearted laugh.  Jack waited patiently for Miranda to return and, as he’d predicted, she was sporting a contrite smile when she came back to bed and tucked herself up under his arm. 

“I’m sorry,” he usurped her apology.  “What I said was uncalled for.”

“Maybe, but it was understandable considering he’s your brother and the fact I’ve known him a lot longer than I’ve known you.  I just want you know to that I would never be unfaithful to you, Jack.”

“I know,” he said earnestly.

There was no need for Miranda to offer assurances of her faithfulness, but he didn’t tell her that.  And he didn’t tell her he knew how she’d resisted being seduced by a man who had it honed down to a science.  Jack was fully aware of the reason she’d gone back to wearing her old work clothes and why she was so tense when she got home, but it didn’t matter.  She loved him, and that’s all he cared about right now.

                         ***

By Wednesday of the following week, Miranda was nothing but a bundle of nerves and was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain her composure around Holt.  At first she worried that her attraction to Jack was based on her feelings for Holt, but now she was beginning to wonder if it everything hadn’t reversed itself.  Was Holt’s masculine scent so alluring because it was the same as Jack’s?  Did she lose herself in his eyes, long for his kisses, his touch because he was the man she had been in love with for three years? Or was it because he was the exact image of the man she’d given her heart and body to only a few short weeks ago?  She didn’t know and it was wearing her down, making her vulnerable.

Her life had become a pendulum; Holt getting her nerves wound up so tight she felt like a bowstring that had been stretched too tight, and Jack swinging her emotions back the other direction with his easy going manner and the way he gave so freely of his affections.  The worst part was, she couldn’t really say anything to either one of them.  It was entirely possible Holt meant nothing at all by the light touches and brief physical contact and that it was only her own volatile mood making her overly sensitive to his nearness.  She’d been so certain he was doing it on purpose the week before, but since he’d made no obvious overtures towards after that heated session in his office, Miranda was no longer sure of anything.

That night as she was packing for the trip, the knots in her stomach became so painful she had to stop what she was doing and sit down.  Perched on the edge of the bed, she scolded herself for behaving like an adolescent.  It was a business trip, she told herself, and it wasn’t as if it was the first time she had accompanied Holt.  He’d been a perfect gentleman all those other times and there was no reason to think he would act differently this time.  Except for the memory of the passionate kisses they’d shared.  And the fact he had come right out and told her he wanted to make love to her.  And because she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what it would feel like be lying naked in his arms.

Miranda stood up abruptly, her cheeks burning and the knots in her stomach growing tighter and tighter.  This was stupid, just plain stupid.  Holt wasn’t going to try anything on this trip, and even if he did, her love for Jack would make her impervious to him.  She pulled a few of her new outfits from the closet and carried them to the bed when the answer to all her problems came to her.  She would simply invite Jack to come with them.  Once Holt knew it was his own brother she was involved with, he would bow out and she…well, she could finally lay to rest any feelings she still had for him.

Two strong arms wound around her waist and pulled her back against a heavily muscled chest.  Warmth flooded through Miranda when her hair was drawn aside and moist kisses were trailed down her neck and back up again.  If she could only hold onto this feeling, this incredible glow that radiated throughout her entire body whenever Jack was near, she would never have a moments doubt again as to who she belonged with.

“So beautiful,” he whispered in her ear.  “Did you know that you have the most exquisite behind?”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yes.  And these,” his hands moved up to cup her breasts, “these are pure perfection.” 

Miranda drew in a shuddering breath when his thumbs raked over the taut peaks.  “Is that all you think about, my body parts?”

Jack laughed softly.  “Sure, what else is there?”

She let out a gasp of indignation and whirled around, fully intending to give him a thorough verbal lashing, but the roguish grin and mischievous glint in his eyes instantly melted her heart.  Lacing her arms around his neck, she tilted her head back and parted her lips in a silent demand for retribution.  Jack eagerly obliged.  It was magical, spectacular, utterly amazing, the things his kisses did to her, and she thought that nothing in world could possibly be more wonderful than the feel of his lips on hers.

“I had a brilliant idea just before you got here,” she said when he let her up for air.

Jack arched his brows.  “You mean there are brains beneath the beauty?”

“Just hush and listen.  I want you to come to Texas with me.  You would have to find something to do during the day, but the evenings would be ours…and the nights.”

He stared at her for a moment, caught by surprise and not exactly sure how to handle it without hurting her feelings.  “I can’t.  I, uh…well, when you told me about the trip, I thought it would be a good time to get some business done.  I’ve put it off too long already and…”  The look of disappointment that crossed her face almost made Jack change his mind.  “Okay, sweetheart, I’ll tell you what.  I won’t be able to go with you, but maybe I can join you for at least one night.”

Miranda’s eyes lit up.  “You’d really fly clear to Texas just to spend one night with me?”

“Sweetheart, I would fly clear to Texas to spend five minutes with you.”

                       ***

Miranda stared at the billowy clouds below but she wasn’t really seeing them.  She kept thinking about what Jack had said and how he’d treated her to dinner and dancing then taken her home and made love to her.  He’d been incredibly tender, touching and kissing and caressing for what seemed like hours before joining his body with hers.  And this morning he had gotten up early to make her breakfast.  She’d nearly cried when it was time to leave but he distracted her with a good-bye kiss that would have knocked her socks off if she’d been wearing any.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Holt broke into her thoughts.  “Is there something wrong?”

“No, just enjoying the view.”

“So was I,” he grinned.

He was doing it again, seducing her with suggestive words and a husky voice. There was also something in those dark eyes that made her feel Holt wanted to cart her off to the nearest flat service.  Miranda hastily turned her head away, biting down on her lip.  Or was it that she wanted it so bad she was only imagining all these things?

Heaven help her, but she
did
want it to be real. She would never act on her own feelings, but something sinful and wanton deep down inside of her wished Holt would just reach out and grab her and take what he wanted.  What they both wanted.  The devil on one shoulder, an angel on the other, she thought ruefully.  Who would win?

She glanced back at Holt and blushed when she discovered he was still watching her, except now she had the uncanny feeling he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.  She bit back the urge to scream at him to stop it, to stop turning her insides to jelly and making her ache all over for him, to stop coaxing her thoughts, her love, away from Jack. He was chipping away at her resistance so that she felt so weak, Miranda was afraid that even the slightest gesture on his part would make her forget her vow to be faithful to Jack.  She never should have come with him. 

Miranda jumped when his hand clamped down over hers and gave it a brief squeeze. It was all Holt could do to keep from patting himself on the back for a job well done.  Over the past two weeks he’d had more physical contact with her than over the entire three years she had worked for him.  He’d given her light, caressing touches at every opportunity and even managed to maneuver her into a corner a few times so that getting past him meant full body contact. 

He’d watched those jade eyes of hers widen in surprise then darken when the internal heat became too much to disguise.  He smiled every time he sneaked up behind her and waited until she sensed he was there, delighting in the way she drew in a sharp breath or let out a little gasp and visibly trembled.  He was almost afraid to move ahead with a full seduction of his sweet Miranda, certain that she would spontaneously combust the second there was any real intimacy between them.  Holt removed his hand, but not before giving her fingers a light stroke with his own.

“Buckle up, we’re getting ready to land.”

Miranda fumbled with the buckle, her breath locking in her chest when he gently pushed her hands aside and did it for her.  “Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Funny, but I don’t remember you ever being nervous about flying before.”

His mocking smile was proof he knew damn well why she was nervous, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. “I think my breakfast didn’t agree with me, that’s all.  Don’t worry,” she added, “I think I can reach the bag in time if I have to throw up.” 

His smile slipped a little as he eyed the distance between Miranda and the bag tucked into the pocket of the seat in front of her.  Good, she thought, it wouldn’t hurt for someone to take his ego down a peg or two and let him know not every female he encountered wanted to throw themselves at his feet and beg for attention.  Just for affect, she covered her mouth when the wheels touched down and gave the passengers a little jolt.  It was a huge miscalculation on her part because instead of drawing back in revolt, Holt settled his arm around her shoulders and asked if she was okay.

“I’m fine, really.” 

Her slender shoulders tensed beneath his grasp.  Oh, yes, she was definitely ripe for the picking, and in just a few short days he was going to reap the rewards of his harvest.  He’d been painstaking in his subtlety over the last two weeks, but now it was time to gear up for a full assault on her senses.  Poor little Miranda wouldn’t know what hit her, and by the time she figured it out, it would be too late.  One way or another, she was going to be his.

Holt had the bellhop drop his luggage off in his suite, then accompanied Miranda to the adjoining room, or rather rooms.  Although his accommodations were more spacious, he made sure she was afforded every comfort possible.  He was pleased with her reaction when they stepped inside, laughing softly at the child like wonder in her eyes as she scampered off to investigate the rest of the suite.  After tipping the bellhop and sending him on his way, he tracked Miranda down and found her in the elegantly furnished bedroom.  He’d stayed at this hotel before, of course, but it was the first time he really noticed the grandeur of the place.

“Do you like it?”

Miranda whirled around and dazzled him with a huge smile.  “It’s simply gorgeous, Holt!  I’ve stayed in some very nice hotels before when Bri and I went on vacation, but this place wins hands down.”  She ran her fingers over one of the massive bed posters with reverence.  “Just look at the woodwork on this bed.” 

Holt gritted his teeth, forcing back the groan of sheer agony at having to refrain from tossing her on top of the quilted mattress and having his way with her.  He sent up a silent prayer of thanks when she moved away from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, but a moment later, the torture continued when she poked her head out and told him to come and take a look. 

“Have you ever seen a tub this big before, Holt?  It’s made of pure marble and even has jet streams on the sides.  I’ll bet a person could sit in here for hours and practically slip into a coma from being so relaxed.  Missy would never allow something this sinful in her mansion.  And look,” she pointed to the wall.  “There’s a television and a stereo system, and do you know there’s even…”

“I have to go,” he said abruptly, then all but ran from the room.

Visions of Miranda’s lithe form basking in the luxury of that tub and then stepping out, her skin glistening with moisture, was more than he could take at the moment.  Flipping the lock on the door that connected their rooms, Holt breathed a sigh of relief when he was standing all alone in the expansive living quarters of his own suite.  His reprieve was short lived, however, because Miranda followed him in looking genuinely concerned.