A small ceiling lamp, which was always on, sent a pool of dim light over the couch. Between its glow and that of the city lights filtering through the plate glass behind his desk, it was enough to see his way.
After he’d switched on a banker’s lamp situated on one corner of his desk, he turned back to Vivian. She was standing a few steps away, her back rigid, her mouth pressed into a flat line. Even in an irritated state, she excited him. Which didn’t make sense at all. He’d worked closely with the woman for years and never stopped to look at her. Never felt her presence touching him, enticing him. What had happened to make everything suddenly change? he wondered wildly.
“Okay, here we are,” she said in a strained voice. “What do we need to discuss? Have you decided you want me to shelve the plans for the other Perfect apps?”
“No. Quite the contrary. I’d like for you to build them as quickly as you can.”
She stepped toward him, her lips parted with faint surprise. As Wes’s gaze zeroed in on them, the twisted knot in his gut unfurled, then burst into a simmering fire.
“Then what? I need to go—”
Yes, she needed to go to her new man, he thought, feeling sick. And he needed to think up some legitimate reason for bringing her to his office before she guessed he was simply playing a stalling game.
Snatching at the first thing that entered his mind, he said, “I’m concerned about these new applications you’re creating. If any one of them is larger than My Perfect Match, a cell phone processor can’t handle the load. The phones will stall or lock up.”
“I learned all about overloads in high school. George and I will keep the size of the sites as marginal as possible. Certainly within the size of Perfect Match.”
Strange how the weather was very cold outside, yet the office felt like a hot, humid July night. The air around them felt so heavy, Wes was finding it hard to breathe. And each time he did manage to draw in a deep breath, it carried her scent to his nostrils.
“If the sites can only be used on phones with high megahertz, I don’t have to tell you that sales will be very limited.”
With a frown that was almost comical, she took another step toward him, then spluttered with disbelief. “I just told you that George and I will handle it. And if that’s all you needed to caution me about, you could have sent a short email.”
By now, Wes didn’t care if she’d guessed this trip to his office had been spawned from jealousy. He wanted her, and he didn’t care whether she knew that, either.
“Yeah, I should have sent an email. But then I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”
Before Wes could stop himself, he snagged a hold of her wrist and tugged her forward.
She stumbled straight into his chest, and Wes didn’t waste the opportunity to wrap her in the tight circle of his arms. Immediately her head flopped backward, placing the shocked O of her lips in the perfect position to be captured by his.
The taste of her mouth was even better than he remembered, and his mind went blank as he moved his lips over hers and slid his hands slowly down her back until they reached the flare of her hips.
With his hands cupping her bottom, he pulled her hips tight against his aching arousal and held her firm while he continued a hungry feast of her lips.
In the back of his mind, he recognized her body was surrendering as the soft fullness of her breasts pressed flat against his chest, her head tilted to allow him better access to her lips. By the time her arms slipped around his neck and her fingers pushed into his hair, sanity had ceased to exist. He was on fire with the need to make love to her.
Desperate to be closer to the object of his desire, he lifted her off her feet, then with a half turn sat her on the edge of his desk. A groan of compliance sounded deep in her throat, and then her legs were wrapping around his waist, causing the hem of her dress to slip decadently up around her hips.
Even as his lips sought the soft skin of her throat and his hands cupped the mounds of her breasts, a slice of sanity was still trying to penetrate his overloaded brain. Vivian wasn’t the type of woman to have spur-of-the-moment sex with him, or any man. And certainly not on an office desk. But his mind refused to listen to that common-sense reasoning. The only thing it could follow was the urging of her hands on his hips, the hot thrust of her tongue between his teeth.
Seconds ticked by and he continued to kiss her until he was certain he was going to explode behind the barrier of his trousers. And with a frantic groan, he finally managed to break the contact between their mouths.
“Viv! You can’t—”
“I can. You can,” she said between frantic gulps of air. “Now, Wes. Now!”
It didn’t matter that somewhere across town an app date was waiting for him. Or that Mr. Valentine was sitting somewhere, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for Vivian to arrive. To hell with them, Wes thought. At this very moment, the only thing that mattered to him was having Vivian in his arms. Having Vivian give him every sweet inch of her luscious little body.
“Protection?” He could barely get the one word question past his gasp for oxygen.
“The pill.”
With a grunt of overwhelming relief, his hands dove beneath the hem of her dress and quickly yanked her panties down her legs and over her feet. The process knocked her high heels loose and the shoes fell one by one, plopping loudly on the wooden parquet.
“Wes, oh, Wes, hurry. Don’t stop now!”
Her frantic plea was like throwing diesel on an out-of-control fire. Gripped by a desire so intense he thought his body was going to combust, he freed his manhood from the fly of his trousers and quickly thrust into her.
And as her body rose to meet his, the pleasure was so enormous his legs very nearly buckled beneath him.
“Viv. Viv.”
*
She heard him whisper her name, and after that Vivian knew nothing except the incredible sensations bombarding her from every direction. Her hips instinctively lifted to match the rhythm of his hard, driving thrusts, while his hands seemed to be everywhere. On her breasts, in her hair, over her thighs and around her ankles. She wanted him to keep touching her; she wanted him to keep plunging into her, asking her for more and more.
She didn’t know how they’d gotten to this point, or why. And she no longer cared. Wes was making wild, sweet love to her, and that was the beginning and end of everything she wanted.
Far beyond the walls of the office, she heard the faint jaunty whistle of a janitor, then the roar of a vacuum. Back inside, somewhere on the desk near her head, a clock ticked, while above them warm air rushed through the vents in the ceiling. Yet none of those sounds could compete with Wes’s sharp, raspy intakes of breath or the groans in her throat that went on and on.
Everything began to spin, and then suddenly she felt his body straining over hers, felt the beat of his heart hammering against hers. She locked her hands at the middle of his back, while her legs tightened in a vise-like grip around his waist. Wherever he was taking her, she had to follow. She had to hang on and weather the wild, relentless storm whirling around inside her.
Then, just as she was certain the ecstasy of it all was going to tear her apart, his body grew rigid. As his face hovered over hers, she could see his features gripped with an intensity that transfixed her. And then as his hot seed began to pour into her, she felt a part of her lifting away. Floating, spinning, whirling until there were no walls around her or cherry wood beneath her. There was nothing but Wes holding her tight as the two of them shot through a sky of brilliant stars.
When Vivian finally returned to earth, Wes had already climbed off her, and she turned her head slightly to see he was standing a few steps away from the desk, straightening his clothing.
With her breaths still coming in rapid gulps, Vivian scrambled to a sitting position, then slid off the desk and jerked down her dress.
Now that the contact between their bodies had ended, she felt dazed and more than a little embarrassed. Never in her life
had she behaved with such reckless passion. How had it happened? How had she let it happen?
Biting back a helpless groan, she swiped the tumbled hair out of her eyes and bent to scoop up her panties and high heels.
She was hurrying toward the door when Wes’s hand snaked a hold on her wrist.
“Viv, wait! Where are you going?”
She forced herself to meet his gaze and was surprised at the earnest look on his face. She’d halfway expected to find indifferent amusement twinkling in his blue eyes.
“To the restroom,” she blurted.
With a flick of his wrist, he pulled her close and covered her mouth with a kiss deep enough to start another fire in the pit of her belly.
“Use my private one. And hurry. We’re getting out of here.”
Her head swimming, she frowned. “I don’t understand.”
His hands briefly cupped her jaw, then slid into her tangled hair. With his lips nuzzling her ear, he murmured, “No. I don’t think you understand how much I want to make love to you again. But you will. As soon as I get you home.”
Home? His home? Too shaken to think about it all now, Vivian pulled away from him. “Give me five minutes,” she said hoarsely.
*
Later, in Wes’s car, Vivian stared out the windshield at the endless taillights moving in a slow, steady stream along the thoroughfare. But her mind wasn’t on the busy flow of traffic; it was consumed with Wes and what had just happened in his office. Now, every cell in her body was wildly aware of the man sitting behind the steering wheel. Only minutes ago, he’d made reckless love to her. And now he was whisking her off to his home. What did it mean? That he was so hot for her that one time just wasn’t enough? That idea was hard to swallow. Wes wouldn’t have to beg or even look very far for a sex partner. So what did that make her? At this very moment, she didn’t want to think about the answer to that question. Making love to Wes, under any circumstances, was too heady to resist.
“This might be a ridiculous time to bring this up, but we both had dates tonight—with other people,” she said. “I was supposed to be there more than thirty minutes ago. And considering how the media is covering My Perfect Match—especially your part in it—this might look embarrassing.”
“What do you mean, embarrassing? No one knows we’re together. Not really together. As for our dates, we’ll be at my place soon. I’ll call mine and you’ll call yours and we’ll both give them some legitimate excuse for not showing up.”
He made it all sound so easy and reasonable. Maybe that was because he’d learned how to be a cheater from an expert, his father Gerald.
“Yes, that should work.” She turned her head toward the passenger window in hopes he’d miss her sigh.
He didn’t.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you really care that much about Mr. Valentine?”
Vexed by his cavalier attitude, she frowned at him. “No. It’s just that sneaking around isn’t my style.”
“Would you rather disappoint me and keep your app date? Would you rather tell the whole world that our app dates are off and the two of us are on?”
They were on all right, Vivian thought wildly. But for how long? One night or two? She’d sworn never to let herself fall into a meaningless affair with a man. But this was Wes, and for a few minutes back there in his office, he’d shown her what real passion was all about. And now that she’d found such thrilling pleasure, she didn’t want to give it up.
Reaching across the plush leather seat, she placed her hand on his forearm. “No. I’d rather be here with you.”
He glanced away from the traffic long enough to flash her a promising grin. “And I’d rather be with you. It’s that simple.”
Simple. She wasn’t naive. Everything about the two of them being together was worse than complicated. But for now, Vivian wasn’t going to allow herself to worry about the future. At this very moment, with Wes looking at her as if she was the most special woman in the world, she felt like a princess in a fairy tale. And even fairy tales lasted for a little while.
Chapter Nine
Wes’s home was located in the elite section of the city, where estates stretched for acres and acres, and the houses were elaborate, multistoried structures set in perfectly landscaped lawns.
Black iron gates stretched across the driveway to Wes’s property. On either side, the low-hanging limbs of two massive oak trees gave Vivian the feeling she was entering a Gothic novel where a cold stone mansion was waiting to trap her.
The narrow asphalt drive wound through sloping grounds until the car was climbing a sharp incline edged by more live oaks. When the house eventually came into view, one look at the massive, two-story structure was enough to convince Vivian she was way out of her league.
By the time he’d parked inside the five-car garage, she was huddled back in the seat, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip.
“Viv, we’re here. You can’t get out of the car unless you unbuckle your seat belt.”
His voice jerked her out of her deep thoughts. Without glancing his way, she began to fumble with the straps locking her into the plush seat.
“Sorry. I was—” Filled with sudden doubt, she glanced over at him. “Wes, I’m not sure I should be here.”
Groaning with frustration, he reached for her and pulled her across the car seat until she was wrapped in the tight circle of his arms.
“Why shouldn’t you be?”
Her nose pressed against the warmth of his neck, she murmured, “This place is—you are—”
Even though she was unable to voice her doubts to him coherently, he seemed to understand them anyway.
“Viv, I’m not royalty living in a palace. I’m just a man who happens to have money. That’s all. None of that has anything to do with you and me.”
Perhaps it didn’t to him, but Vivian knew what it was like to stand on the floor and try to reach a hand to the top shelf of the cabinet. Without something to climb on, it never worked. And the way Vivian saw it, she didn’t have anything to help her make the climb from her lowly position to his.
But then, she’d been aware of the differences between them long before she’d agreed to come here to his home. It was far too late to get cold feet now.
“You’re right, Wes. None of it matters.”
He planted a thorough kiss on her lips, then helped her out of the car.
They entered the house through a side door, and Vivian found herself standing in a large kitchen equipped with modern stainless steel appliances, but decorated in a distinctly homey fashion from an earlier era.
“Let’s get our calls out of the way before we head upstairs,” Wes suggested.
Vivian pulled her phone from her purse. “Fine with me. I’m nearly an hour late as it is.”
While she explained to her waiting date that an emergency had come up and she needed to cancel their evening together, Wes stood at the opposite end of the kitchen, doing the same with his date.
Once they both ended the brief calls, Wes walked back over to Vivian. “That was unpleasant,” he confessed. “I think the lady guessed I wasn’t being totally forthright about needing to break the date.”
Feeling equally guilty, Vivian shook her head. “My date was hardly convinced I had an emergency to deal with. But what could I say? That I’d run off with another man?”
Chuckling now, Wes curled his arm around the back of her waist. “You have run off. We’ve run off together.”
He urged her out of the kitchen and down a narrow hallway. When they stepped into a large family-type room, Vivian got the impression of high ceilings, rich drapes at the windows and floral wingback chairs in front of a long fireplace. The furnishings looked as if they’d been taken right off a 1940s movie set.
Amazed by it all, Vivian asked, “Did you have the place purposely decorated with this era in mind?”
He smiled. “What? Were you planning to see my home filled with chrome and glass and sterile furniture?”
His hand was wrapped tightly around hers as they moved out of the room and toward a tall curved staircase. The warmth of his fingers was so comforting and inviting that he could have led her straight into a wall of flames and she wouldn’t have resisted.
“Well, you are a computer geek,” she reasoned. “You’re all about cyberspace and the future.”
“That’s at work. I’m different at home.”
“Hmm. I’m beginning to see that.”
“Actually, I can’t take the credit for the furnishings,” he said. “This is the way the place looked when I first bought it. When my mother first laid eyes on the furnishings, she gasped with disbelief. Then, when I told her I had no intention of changing them, she was horrified. But I was adamant about keeping everything the same.”
“I would’ve never pegged you to be the homey sort.”
As they started to climb the stairs, he said, “The story goes that the couple who originally built the house, the pair I told you about before, had two children. A son and a daughter. They lost the son in World War II, and they were determined to keep the house as it was when he left for Europe. Years later, when they passed the property on to their daughter, she carried on with their tradition. And I—well, it’s a comfortable escape.”
And he clearly had a bit of a sentimental streak in him. The fact surprised Vivian a lot and tugged on her heartstrings even more.
They both remained quiet while climbing the last of the staircase. Once they reached the stairwell, Vivian saw no point in asking where they were going. It was obvious he was taking her straight to his bedroom.
After traveling several more feet down another narrow hallway, he opened a wide door. She followed him over the threshold, into a room illuminated only by a tiny night lamp near the head of the bed.
Vivian barely had a glimpse of a four-poster covered in a dark green-and-gold-patterned spread, a tall armoire and matching chest, before his hands caught her waist to pull her backward and into his arms.
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