It had been easy then, to accept anything he’d wanted to give her. They’d been…involved. Now, Marcos Allende could calmly forget about it, as he’d forgotten the rest.
Worst of all was it hurt.
Even when she’d expected it.
As she stepped onto the amazingly busy Fintech nineteenth floor, Virginia hoped every employee would be in their usual flurries of movement and therefore too busy to notice she was fifteen minutes late.
But notice her they did.
The very moment her heels hit the carpet, a quiet spread throughout.
For the second day in a row, people glanced up from the copy machines. Behind their desks, heads lifted. The fact that everyone, everyone in the vast open space, knew and had probably discussed the fact that she had spent a week with Marcos in Monterrey became brutally evident. Deep inside, where all her fears were kept in a tight little bundle, she heard something.
They say she’s his lover…
Had someone spoken that? Was she putting words and thoughts into their mouths because of her own regrets?
Dragging in a calming breath, she crossed the sea of cubicles, then went down the art-packed hallway. At the far end, to the right of the massive carved doors that led to Marcos’s office, three identical rosewood desks stood. She slid in behind hers. The savvy Mrs. Fuller, who’d been with Marcos “longer than his mother has,” was quick to make her way around her own tidy work place and greet Virginia. “He’s very strange today,” the older woman said, wide-eyed. “He smiled at me and he said ‘thank you.’”
The words didn’t diminish the kernel of fear settled in the pit of Virginia’s stomach. If she so much as stepped out of her boundaries this week and onward…if she was fool enough to even remind him of Mexico…she dared not think of who would be sitting behind her desk next week.
“Then the deal must be going in his favor.” Virginia attempted a teasing smile as she turned to get settled.
Lindsay, a young redhead near Virginia’s age who’d also become her friend, drew up next to Mrs. Fuller. Their expressions were those of genuine excitement. “How was Mexico?” the older woman asked as Virginia sank into her chair and gazed at the top of her desk. A picture of her mother. A fake orchid. Her yellow markers sticking out of a silver can.
“Was it hot? I hear it’s sweltering this time of year,” Mrs. Fuller insisted. Virginia hadn’t seen the woman yesterday since they’d reached Fintech later than normal.
“Yes,” Virginia said, having no other answer to give a woman who was known through the entire building as levelheaded and kind.
As Mrs. Fuller’s concerned gray eyes bored into the top of Virginia’s head, she wished she could have been spared this encounter with even more fervor than she’d wished to avoid her last one with the dentist.
“He’s been gazing out the window all morning, and with so much to do, that is so unlike him,” Lindsay confessed under her cinnamon-scented breath. “And he asked me where you were.”
Virginia was spared having to reply when the phones began their usual music. Struck as though by lightning, both Lindsay and Mrs. Fuller were spurred to action. They jumped behind their desks and began tackling the calls.
Ignoring the telephone ringing equally obnoxiously on her desk, Virginia tucked the duffel into the nook under the computer. She would not, could not, think of his mood meaning anything. Their deal would be over soon, after the Fintech dinner, and they would forget Mexico. He had promised it would not affect her job.
Inspecting her drawers and taking out her personal notepad and the colored clips she’d bought in a burst of secretarial enthusiasm, Virginia felt her throat close at the sudden memory of her mother. That hopeful light always in her eyes. Her warm, caring smile. She had always had a saying to cheer Virginia up. Would she have one for Virginia today? One about there always being something better out there? Better than Marcos?
“Miss Hollis, I hear you were out with the boss?”
She started in surprise. Fredrick Mendez, one of the youngest accountants, had propped his hip onto the corner of her desk and was eyeing her with a combination of amusement and mock despair.
“For a week,” she stressed as she straightened in her chair.
“That’s too much, Miss Hollis. Too much time without you. So, did you bring me a key chain?”
“Did you ask for one?”
“All right, at least show us some pictures,” Fredrick insisted. But when Virginia’s usual friendly smile just would not come, he fell to his knees and clutched a hand to his chest. “Oh, Virginia, thy eyes shalt truth reveal—”
“Am I running a circus here, Mendez?”
The deep, clear voice, but most of all, the distinguished accent, struck Virginia like a cannon blast.
Her eyes flew to locate the source. Inches away, exiting the conference room and on his way to her, Marcos Allende was a sight to behold. Power and sophistication oozed from his every pore. His stride was slow and confident, his expression perfectly composed. And his every step kicked up her heartbeat. Six of his top lawyers followed.
Upon realizing who’d spoken, Fredrick’s pale complexion turned in the space of a second to a tomato-red. He jumped to his feet and smoothed a hand along his polka-dot tie. “No, sir. I was just welcoming Virginia back on our behalf.”
“Our?” He said the word as though Fredrick had no right to include himself in something he hadn’t been invited to.
Turning to where Virginia sat with perfect poise behind the desk, Marcos thrust his hands into his pockets and silently contemplated her. “Don’t you have work to do other than hound Miss Hollis,” he said softly, and there was no doubt whom he addressed.
Fredrick took off with a mumbled “Yes, sir.”
Without removing his eyes from her, he also said, “Brief me on the new stipulations when they’re in.”
In unison, the lawyers expressed their agreement and dispersed.
Without the buffer of their presence, there was nothing to pry those jealous black eyes from hers, no shield from the scorching possessiveness flickering in their depths.
Suddenly breathless, Virginia wondered if the blouse she wore today might be too white, or a little sheer? If her skirt was too short, her hair too unruly, the silver hoop earrings inappropriate for Fintech?
Meanwhile Marcos was the epitome of the worldly businessman.
He filled his black Armani like it had been tailor-made for those broad, square shoulders, which tapered down to his lean waist and narrow hips.
God! She could not believe the dark, breathtaking creature before her was her lover from Mexico.
Suddenly, as their gazes held, their eyes screaming with something dark and sinful, Virginia was certain the entire room thought she had slept with him. They say she’s his lover…
Please, God, let no one ever know.
“Marcos,” she said, moderating her tone. “I’m sorry I’m late, but I—”
Hands planted on the desk, Marcos stretched his arms out and in a single fluid move leaned forward. As his face neared her, Virginia saw Mrs. Fuller’s eyes turn to saucers, and Lindsay almost fell back in her chair.
When the tip of his nose almost touched hers, she could focus on nothing else but six feet three inches of Marcos Allende. He ducked his head.
“Do you remember our deal?”
The murmur couldn’t have been heard by anyone else. But she felt as if the clock, the world, stopped.
The feel of his breath on her face sent a torrent of warmth through her singing veins. “Yes, of course, I remember.”
He leaned back a bit, regarding her as though he expected the same illumination he seemed to have experienced to have struck her, too. “After-work hours were included, weren’t they?”
She couldn’t explain the thrill she experienced, this inspiring and overwhelming happiness. He was asking for more, more from her, and not until this moment when she had his full attention had she realized how thirsty she’d been for it. “They w
ere. Why do you ask? Is it that you need some assistance?”
His smile, slow in reaching completion, was meltingly sexy. “I do.”
They say she’s his lover…
She was plunging into a bottomless pit where surely there was nothing but heartache, and still, her blood was thrilling in her veins. “I’m always happy to be of assistance.”
He gazed directly at her—the intent in his eyes unmistakable. “Be certain you present yourself at my apartment this evening. There’s much to do.”
She flushed beet-red, and scribbled in a yellow Post-it, Is this what I think it is?
He read it and tucked the note into his jacket, not before stroking her thumb with his, and sent her a look of such emotion and longing she almost wept. “Six p.m. sharp, Miss Hollis. I’m afraid it’s an all-nighter.”
He’d already started for his office when she blurted, “I can handle all-nighters.”
“Good. This one’s particularly hard.”
When the doors closed shut behind him, whispers erupted, and Mrs. Fuller jumped to her feet and raced toward her in a flurry of mortification.
“Virginia. Please don’t tell me this is what I think it is.”
Heart pumping irregularly, Virginia grabbed her notepad. “I’d better go. The sales projections start in a few minutes and Marcos will want my notes.” Oh, God, they had seen and heard all that, hadn’t they?
Virginia, like putty in his hands. Marcos, suggesting she go to his place to…to…behave wickedly.
But the woman caught her by the shoulders and clenched tight with her fists, her face stricken. “Oh, sweetie, please say it isn’t so!”
“Mrs. Fuller,” Virginia said in a placating voice, patting one of her hands for good measure. “I don’t know what you mean, but there is nothing going on here, nothing!”
“Yes, there is. I’ve seen the way you look at him. You’re a sweet young girl, an innocent little lamb, and Marcos is…a wolf! He’s emotionally detached and you can’t possibly—”
Virginia turned her head to hide her blush only to catch half the office staring at them. But Lindsay was smiling in glee behind her desk and sticking her thumbs up as though Virginia had just won the lottery.
Lowering her voice to a whisper, Virginia confessed, “I can handle wolves. I can handle a pack of them, I promise you. And this is nothing like what you think.”
“Vee. Sweet, sweet Vee.” Mrs. Fuller’s hands trembled when she framed her cheeks between them. “I adore Marcos like a son. He has been a kind boss to me, and when my poor Herbert died…” She sighed, then shook her perfectly coiffed head and got back on track. “But he is not the kind of man a woman like you needs. There hasn’t been a single woman in his history he’s kept around for more than a month. You’ll end up with a broken heart and even lose your job.”
That her last comment struck a nerve was a given.
“I’m not losing my job for anything.” Virginia forced a smile to her face and much needed courage into her heart. She wanted him. She wanted him so bad she had to have him, would seduce and remind him. “He’s my boss, and he wants me to assist him, and so I will. Please don’t worry, Mrs. Fuller, or your heartburn will act up. I’ll be fine. And be sure everyone, everyone knows there’s nothing going on here.”
But even as she stepped into the projection room, she couldn’t help wondering how well they’d be able to hide it for as long as it lasted.
And what would happen to her when it was really, truly finished.
Nine
After the longest work day of his entire life, and one during which he’d gotten exasperatingly little work done, Marcos arrived home to find her waiting in his living room.
Of course. His assistants had his key code—why shouldn’t she be here?
With the sun setting behind her, her feet tucked under her body on the couch, and a book spread open on her lap, Virginia Hollis was a welcoming sight.
When he stepped out of the elevator that opened into the penthouse, she came to her feet, her hands going to her hair—to her rich, curly black hair, which was deliciously tousled as though she’d been running her fingers through it all day.
He fisted his hands at his sides, his mouth going dry. Good God. She wore drawstring pants and a button-up shirt with little ice cream cones. The colorful, almost childish pattern was also stamped all across the pajama pants. And on her, that weathered, warm-looking thing was the sexiest garment he’d ever had the pleasure of gazing upon.
He hadn’t intended to sleep with her. Or had he? He’d wanted to see her, damn it. And now he could hardly believe what she was so obviously offering to him.
When he finally spoke, his voice came out rougher than he’d anticipated. “Have a good day?”
She set her book on the side table. Nodded. Then, “You?”
God, this was so domestic he should be climbing back into the elevator right about now. And getting away from there as fast as he could.
Why didn’t he?
Because his hands itched to touch her. His guts felt tight and he was hot and hard with wanting her. He’d wanted to drag her into his office today, feel his way up her little skirt, kiss that mouth until her lips were bright red. He couldn’t stay away, had now determined he was a fool to.
She wanted him, too.
Removing his jacket, he draped it across the back of a chair, nodding, as well.
“I brought my notes,” she said quickly. “Just in case.”
He gazed into eyes that were green and bottomless, and slowly advanced. “Good. Notes are important,” he offered in return, and because he had missed the enticing, arousing sight of her all day, he gruffly added, “What else did you bring me, Miss Hollis?”
The soft smile that appeared on her lips trembled. Her hands smoothed her pajamas all along her hips and his eyes greedily swept up and down the length of her. “I like that…thing you’re wearing.” More than that, he was warming up to the idea of tearing it off her and licking her like vanilla ice cream.
“Thank you.” She signaled at his throat. “I—I like your tie.”
He wrenched it off, tossed it aside, then closed the space between them. “Come here,” he said quietly, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her flat against his body. “Why are you so shy all of a sudden?”
She set her hands lightly on his shoulders, barely touching him. “I—I don’t know. I shouldn’t have slipped into my pajamas.”
Lust whirled inside him. She had a way of staring at him with those big eyes, like he was something out of this world. And she felt soft and womanly against him, her scent teasing his lungs as he buried his face in her hair. “I’ve wanted this, Virginia. God, how I’ve wanted this.”
As she tipped her head back to him, he covered her lips with his.
Employing every ounce of experience and coaxing power at his disposal, he began to feast on that little mouth, drink of her honey.
Hesitantly she dipped her tongue into his mouth and a pang of longing struck in his core at how sweet she tasted, how entirely she succumbed and fitted her body to his.
In his need, he didn’t hear himself, the way his voice turned hoarse with longing as he spoke to her, cupping the back of her head gently. “Delicioso…besame…dame tu boca…”
She tasted of warmth and hunger, and responded like a woman who’d thought of him all day—wanted him all day.
Just as he had thought of ways of devouring her, too.
The kiss went, in the space of three seconds, from a hard quest to a need that left no room for finesse. While he took thirsty sips of her mouth, his hands went places, one to cup a plump buttock, the other to work on her shirt.
Her eager hands tugged his shirt out of the waistband of his pants and slipped inside, making him groan when her cool, dry palms caressed his chest up and down.
He imagined lifting her, wrapping her legs around him and taking her, and she jumped as though she were thinking the same thing, kissing him like no woman had ever kis
sed him before. She curled one shapely leg around him, and his hands went to his zipper.
“Damn.” He halted, then set her slowly on her feet. Restless, as he drew back, he rubbed the straining muscles at the back of his neck.
They were breathing hard and loud.
Her hand flew up to cover her moist, glistening lips. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bite you.”
That little bite had made him want to bite her back, in every place imaginable. Damn. He rubbed his face with both hands, his blood thrumming in his body. He’d undone three buttons of her pajama top, and the flesh of one breast threatened to pop out.
Marcos regarded the creamy flesh while an overwhelming urge to dip his fingers inside the cotton and weigh that globe in his hand made him curl his fingers into his palm.
“Marcos?”
He jerked his eyes away, stared at the top of her head. “I had a long day.” And I thought of nothing but this moment.
He’d been out of his mind with jealousy at the sight of her flushed cheeks, that clown Mendez begging at her feet. How many men had stared at her, wanted her, like Marcos did?
Oblivious to the rampant storms of his thoughts, Virginia followed him down the hall and into the bedroom. He was a mass of craving and thirst and he’d never felt so perilously close to losing control before.
Crossing the length of the room, he braced a hand on the window and gazed out at the city. If she ever dared make a fool of him…if she ever dared so much as look at another man while she was with him…
“Marissa was after me for years.”
A quiet settled, disturbed by the rustle of her clothes as she moved around. “I’m sorry.”
Yes. Well.
So was he.
Such humiliation, the way she’d played him. “I didn’t know my father wanted her,” he said, unable to conceal the disgust in his voice, “until they were already…involved.”
When he turned, she was standing by the bathroom door. She’d grabbed a brush and was pensively running it through her hair. The lights shone on the satin mass.
Entranced, Marcos watched the curls spring back into place after a pass, and he wanted to plunge his fingers through that hair and wrap it in his hands.