Married To The Boss Part 14

R.J. bit back a moan at the pleasure of it. "Yes." Then he added, "Harder."

Dana levered herself up on one arm, her reluctance forgotten. Rather than meet his eyes, she looked down at her hand, which curved around him through his slacks. She clenched her fingers, and when he jerked, she let him go. "Did I hurt you?"

"G.o.d, no," he rasped. "But I think we'd better stop right here or I'm a goner. I can't take much more."

"You can't?"

He shook his head. "No, absolutely not. That is, unless you want to carry things to the natural conclusion."

She stared at him, then scrambled to sit up. Before she turned her back to him, he saw her expression of dazed amazement. "I...no. I don't want us to..."

"Have s.e.x." R.J. sat up, too, though more slowly. He took advantage of her distraction to straighten himself, then sighed with minimum relief. "That's where we were headed, you know."

She rubbed her forehead in confusion. "I don't know what got into me. I hadn't intended any of that."

R.J. looked at her straight, proud shoulders, her mussed hair, and grinned despite his painful arousal. "You're a woman and I'm a man and we want each other. Things are bound to get out of hand now and then." Because he felt secure that she wouldn't be able to hold out against him for long, not with her natural sensuality, he said, "But don't worry. Until you make it clear that you want me, I won't pressure you."

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her expression one of complete disbelief.

Laughing, he flicked the tip of her nose. "I promise." But in the meantime, he'd also take advantage of his time with her to wear her down gently. He was thirty-nine years old; he knew women, and he knew how to get what he wanted. Before the week was out, Dana would be sleeping in his bed-where she belonged.

He gave her a swift, hard kiss good-night and forced himself to his feet. At the door, he stopped and faced her. "Good night, sweetheart. If you need anything, just let me know."

She still looked dazed by all that had transpired, but she managed a nod, and a polite, "Good night, R.J. Sleep well."

Ha. He'd be lucky if he slept at all with his body still on fire and the tempting knowledge that Dana, and relief, were only a few feet away. But while he lay awake, he'd have plenty to think on-like antic.i.p.ating her surrender. He was a pro at getting what he wanted. Dana and all her silly hang-ups didn't stand a chance.

She was the pro-at s.e.xual torment.

By Thursday, R.J. was wondering how much longer he'd be able to survive. He sat at his desk, ignoring the files Dana had just set before him. He wondered if it was his imagination or if she was deliberately teasing him. Lately, nothing with Dana was clear-cut. Oh, she still did the work of two people. More so than ever, in fact.

His mother had called just that afternoon to tell him he was once again in the papers. It had been that way every day, his face, his every word splashed across a mult.i.tude of papers from around the state. What wasn't a direct quote from a lucky source who'd been on the scene was taken from other reliable sources, because no one wanted to miss the story. He was big news.

The difference this time, of course, was that Dana had engineered the entire thing so he'd come off looking like a saint. There were photos of him holding babies at the clinic. Photos of him speaking with women from the shelter. Candid shots of him writing out a check to the One Way Farm for children, checks that were usually taken care of by his accountant.

And in fact, they had been taken care of already, not that he minded donating twice. He'd chosen the charities himself and wanted to do whatever he could to support them. It amused as well as irritated him that Dana wouldn't accept a single cent from him, but she had no problem giving his money away.

Dana had worked things perfectly, and now Austin society didn't know what to think. Was R. J. Maitland a man capable of abandoning his own child, or was he the great philanthropist?

R.J. didn't know what to think, either.

At that moment, Dana bustled in-there was no other word for her irritatingly cheery disposition in the face of his disgruntled frustration-and refilled his coffee cup. She wouldn't serve him at home, and in fact seemed to take exceptional glee in refusing him even the most minor gratuities, but at the office, nothing had changed.

The confounded woman knew he couldn't strip her naked at the office.

Though the thought had singular appeal.

After the cup was full, she perched her hip on the side of his desk, making his pulse quicken, and said, "R.J., Chelsea Mark.u.m just called. She wants to interview you."

He made a rude sound. "That conniving little b.i.t.c.h. What's she hoping to do? Negate all the headway you're making?"

Dana lifted a brow. "The headway you're making."

He eyed the length of her legs, one bent at the knee and the other outstretched. d.a.m.n, but she had long legs. Killer legs. Why the h.e.l.l had it taken him so long to notice?

Because the long, st.u.r.dy skirts she wore and the flat, ugly shoes on her feet conspired to hide that fact from everyone, including him.

He imagined her in her a short, snug skirt-or better yet, no skirt at all. He took a deep, calming breath. "No one would have paid me the least attention these last few days if it hadn't been for you."

"Only because you're a private man and you consider your philanthropic tendencies no one's business but your own."

He leaned forward with a negligent lack of haste, his forearms flat on the desk, his hands close to her hip. One inch, he thought, and he'd be touching the soft curves of her behind.

She slipped off the desk to pace away.

R.J. swallowed his frustration. "My tendencies aren't anyone's business," he groused, "and if it hadn't been for Chelsea and her cutthroat newscast, things could have stayed that way."

Dana's gaze was suddenly solemn as she turned to him. "Oh, R.J." She searched his face. "Have I convinced you to do something you didn't want to do?"

After the miracles she'd performed, he felt like a cad. He left his seat and strode toward her. "Do you really think that's possible, babe?"

She blinked at the pet name he'd started to use and took one step back before halting and squaring her shoulders. "What?"

"For you to get me to do things I don't want to do?"

"Oh. Well, no, not really."

R.J. stood only three inches from her. Sunlight from the large window behind his desk poured over her, making her fair hair glint and gilding her eyelashes. Her skin, he found, was incredible. Not a single flaw, just soft and silky and smooth. He wanted to explore that skin everywhere, on her belly, her upper thighs, the small of her back.

He made a low sound and took her shoulders in his hands. But as he lowered his head she ducked away, needlessly smoothing her hair as if he'd somehow mussed it.

"R.J., please," she whispered, glancing around, though they were alone in the big office. "We can't do that... here."

Evidently they couldn't do it anywhere. At least, not the it he wanted, which was everything. She let him kiss her occasionally and seemed to enjoy his attention. She even accepted the limited caress: a pat on the behind, a cuddle of her breast. The adolescent touches were enough to make him crazed. But if it went beyond that, if he started to breathe hard- which he seemed to do the second she responded to him -he'd see the haunting uncertainty cloud her big eyes.

His vow to wait until she was ready was wearing real thin.

She'd gone to his desk to straighten his papers, and he couldn't help himself. He stepped up behind her and slid his arms around her narrow waist, resting his jaw at the part of her hair on her crown. "Do you know what I've been thinking?" he murmured.

She was very still. "No."

"About you. And this d.a.m.n enormous desk. And how easy it would be to bend you over it." Her gasp was loud, but he was learning to read her, just barely, and he recognized the sound as mingled excitement and persistent reserve. "Like this."

He pressed his chest against her back and she automatically braced her hands flat, supporting her weight while bending forward. The position put her b.u.t.tocks at a very interesting angle. He slid his hands down her rib cage until they were holding her hips, then let her feel how aroused he'd become already.

The insanity of need almost claimed him as he felt the soft, firm cus.h.i.+oning of her derriere against his hard flesh. His fingers contracted, and only by force of will did he make himself go slowly. With a more experienced woman, he'd already be driving deep, easing the hot need for them both.

Feather light, he kissed along the nape of her neck, which he'd learned was ultimately sensitive to his every touch. She s.h.i.+vered and made a small sound of surprised pleasure-a sound guaranteed to make him throb.

"Just a few b.u.t.tons undone at your jacket and blouse, and I could be holding your naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s right now. Are your nipples hard, Dana?" The words and accompanying image affected him as much, if not more, than her. He groaned, then found out for himself that indeed they were. She was ripe, aching.

She pushed back against him in an instinctive search for relief when he lightly tugged at her pointed nipples. His heart slammed against his rib cage. "d.a.m.n, but I love touching you, Dana."

She made a small sound, but R.J. couldn't be sure it was acceptance. He nipped her ear.

"If I pushed your skirt up high," he groaned against the side of her throat, "I could slide my hands between your soft thighs and-"

Straightening abruptly, she almost hit him in the head. She scrambled from between him and the desk. Chest heaving, eyes wide, face flushed, she stared up at him and blurted, "You have a meeting!"

"What?" Somehow that wasn't at all what he'd expected to hear. It took his sluggish brain a moment to a.s.similate the words.

Still panting, she closed her eyes as if that were the only way she could concentrate enough to speak coherently. Forming the words with care, she said, "You had a lunch meeting with Drake, remember?" She bit her lip, then opened her eyes. "He's... he's probably waiting for you right now."

R.J. stared at her, nonplussed, until the truth sank in.

Good G.o.d, he'd forgotten a meeting. The meeting had been penciled in on his calendar for over a week.

He remembered Dana putting the reminder note in front of him-and he'd watched the gentle sway of her shapely ramp as she'd left.

He even remembered confirming with Drake earlier that very day-but his mind had been on Dana sitting primly at her desk, a sight visible through the open office doors.

In fact, he thought in numb horror as he looked at his desk piled with files he hadn't touched, he hadn't done a d.a.m.n thing all day except think of her and let his imagination go wild. To be honest, the entire week had been pretty much a write-off. A sick tightening of his throat made it difficult to breathe, and he swallowed hard, then met Dana's nervous gaze.

His hands curled into fists. He was responsible, reputable, a self-professed workaholic, and that was how he liked it, d.a.m.n it. Unlike his father, he didn't take his duties lightly. And as president of Maitland Maternity, a lot of people relied on him.

Something had to change.

He stepped around Dana and s.n.a.t.c.hed his jacket from the desk chair. "Get on the phone with the restaurant. Have them tell Drake I was detained but I'm on my way."

She didn't answer, and at the moment, he didn't care. He hunted through the stack of ignored files until he found what he was looking for, then shoved the papers into his briefcase and snapped the case shut.

He didn't look at Dana, didn't acknowledge her in any way. She'd become a weakness in his blood, and he'd have to deal with that. Later. Right now, he had business to take care of.

Dana rushed alongside him as he headed for the door. "What about Ms. Mark.u.m and 'Tattle Today TV?"

"You can tell Ms. Mark.u.m to take a flying leap-"

"R.J.!".

They were in the hallway, almost to the elevators. He gave an impatient look at his watch and wondered what Drake would have to say about being kept waiting. A first and, most definitely, a last. "Tell her whatever the h.e.l.l you want, as long as it's no. I don't want a d.a.m.n thing to do with that woman."

"It might be good publicity-"

He stepped into the elevator and punched the b.u.t.ton for the lobby. "I said no, Dana. And regardless of anything else, I'm still your d.a.m.n boss."

She stiffened and her soft mouth firmed into a straight line. Just before the elevator doors shut, she gave him a sharp salute and chimed, "Yes, sir!"

R.J. found himself cursing violently to an empty elevator. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but he felt totally dispossessed of every value he held near and dear. His work ethic had always been uppermost in his mind. Not once since he'd been old enough to be responsible for himself had he s.h.i.+rked his duties. But now, having Dana in the office had become a distraction he couldn't deal with. One look at her, and all he could think about was how wonderful her body had felt beneath his. He'd been given to daydreaming, when all his life he'd disdained the fools who wasted their time doing just that.

Marrying Dana had done as he'd hoped. With all her efforts, his reputation was in repair.

But was it a reputation he was worthy of anymore?

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Dana hurried in through the garage, noticing as she parked that R.J.'s car was there, also. She had hoped to beat him home. Home. What a strange word to use in connection with a house that wasn't hers and never would be. But she did feel at ease here. And she absolutely loved the grounds. Each morning she and R.J. took their coffee to the cozy back patio. The scent of flowers combined with gurgling water from the pond fountain nearby and the chirping of birds in the yard had worked to make her feel very relaxed and peaceful. She loved it.

Of course she'd kept her apartment. For now, she could enjoy his home as her own, but she'd be going back to her place once R.J. decided the marriage had served its purpose and was no longer needed.

He'd tried to argue about that, too, she remembered, as she retrieved her packages from the trunk. He'd been so unreasonable about so many things, but to even think she'd give up her apartment and all her furnis.h.i.+ngs when the marriage wasn't the forever kind.... Never mind that he'd tried telling her he'd get her another apartment- even a house if she wanted it-when the time came. You'd think the man would know her better than that.

R.J. must have been listening for her, because before she could juggle her keys to unlock the door from the garage into the house, he was there. He still had on his dress slacks, but he was in his socks and his hair was disheveled. His s.h.i.+rt was completely unb.u.t.toned, hanging from his broad shoulders and displaying more than it concealed.

As usual, the sight of him did funny things to her stomach.

"R.J.," she said by way of a greeting.

He reached out and lazily relieved her of the bags, balancing them all in one arm. "Where've you been to?"

His tone had a slightly edgy sound to it, and she looked at him warily. "I went shopping."

He didn't reply, but waited until she'd stepped into the house then closed the door behind her. He followed her through the dining area to the kitchen. Dana pulled off her lightweight jacket and laid it over a chair. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong? I've been home for over an hour. The house was empty. No wife, not even a housekeeper."

"I thought your meeting might keep you longer."

His eyes narrowed. "After lunch, I got back on schedule." He lifted a gla.s.s from the counter and took a healthy swallow. Ice cubes c.h.i.n.ked as he finished it off. "One blunder a day is enough. Besides, there was no way I could have been late for my last meeting. As it was, half my family was there and they gave me h.e.l.l for not telling them about the wedding."

Dana eyed the drink in his hand. R.J.'s sister Abby was Maitland Maternity's finest obstetrician and one of Dana's closest friends. His sister Ellie was the hospital administrator and Beth, Ellie's twin, managed the day-care center. Dana had known they would all be at the meeting, with Megan, of course. Maitland Maternity was, for the most part, a very family-oriented business. Dana had wondered how R.J. would explain away their marriage.

But at the moment the reasoning he'd given for their marriage didn't matter. She remembered that Abby had confessed her concern over R.J.'s drinking habits of late. But to Dana's knowledge, he hadn't drunk at all since the wedding.

R J. saw the direction of her gaze and shook his head. "Don't start. Abby already gave me a earful. You'd think I'd turned into a d.a.m.n lush the way she fretted."

"She loves you, so she worries."

"She has no reason. And as long as you're going to be the nosy wife, you might as well know it's only cola. I want to talk to you, and I intend to be dead sober while I do so."