Craving Her Boss's Touch

by Penny Jordan

  With a sigh of blissful contentment Storm melted against him, revelling in the way he shuddered against her as she slid her arms round his neck and pulled his head down.

  Even if he didn’t love her, he wanted her, and no power on earth could take that from her.

  She closed her eyes and stretched sensuously against him, her heart pounding as she felt him move against her. Her hands slid down over his shoulders, following the line of dark hair to the flatness of his stomach, then her wanton downward exploration was stopped forcibly.

  ‘For God’s sake, Storm,’ Jago muttered feverishly, holding her off, ‘what are you trying to do to me?’

  His eyes were smoky with desire, his face faintly flushed, and he was breathing as though he had been running—hard.

  ‘Only what you’re doing to me,’ Storm admitted, abandoning the last of her self-restraint and pressing herself against him. Keeping her eyes on his face, she whispered against his mouth, ‘Take me, Jago. I want you so badly. Please!’ she begged feverishly, when he made no response, tears of frustration glittering in her eyes. ‘Please love me, Jago,’ she pleaded, brushing her lips against his throat.

  His body shuddered against her, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss of intense need, fuelling a fire that left her pliant and trembling, a pulsating ache in the lower half of her body telling her there could be only one satisfactory outcome.

  When the kiss ended she opened her eyes in mute appeal. ‘Don’t stop,’ she whispered achingly. ‘I want you so much. I love you so much,’ she whispered frenziedly. ‘But you knew that all the time, didn’t you? And now that I’ve admitted it the game’s over, isn’t it? You don’t want me any more…’

  All at once he thrust her away, tears filling her eyes at the savagery of his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘Say that again!’ he breathed urgently.

  ‘You don’t want me any more…’

  ‘Not that,’ he groaned, trembling. ‘Tell me you love me again. God, if you knew what I’ve been through waiting to hear you say that… So many times I thought you would, but always you pulled back, throwing Winters in my face. Are you telling the truth?’ he muttered unevenly, his eyes searching her face.

  ‘I wouldn’t admit to myself that what I felt for you was more than desire,’ Storm told him bravely. ‘I never wanted to feel like this about anyone.’ Her eyes dropped. ‘I’ve always been frightened that some day I would, and that it would be like handing over a part of myself to someone for all time…’

  ‘And is it?’ Jago asked softly, his thumbs caressing the fragile bones of her jaw.

  ‘Worse,’ Storm admitted with a wry smile. ‘I can’t fight you any longer, Jago. I’m yours for as long as you want me, even if it means sharing you with the Madeleines of this world… Don’t you want me now?’ she cried bitterly when he made no move to take her back in his arms. ‘Is that it? Now that I’ve capitulated and you’ve got what you wanted…’

  He swung her round suddenly, fierce passion in his eyes.

  ‘I’ll never have enough of you, Storm. There isn’t that much time; not even in a thousand lifetimes.’

  He picked her up, pulling a thick fleecy towel from the rail and wrapping her in it before depositing her on the bed, while he shrugged on a towelling robe.

  ‘Now,’ he said softly, bending to take her in his arms, ‘with that delectable body covered up, I might recover enough of my self-control to talk to you. Don’t look at me like that,’ he added roughly. ‘God, if you knew how much I’ve wanted you here like this! The other night, when you looked at me and told me you were a virgin, I could willingly have killed you.’ He groaned at the memory. ‘I wanted you so badly, and I told myself that it didn’t matter that you didn’t love me. I turned you on, and I thought I could teach you to care, in time, but when I knew that I would be the first, that you hadn’t had any other lovers, I knew I couldn’t take from you what should only be given in love. I didn’t get much sleep that night, I can tell you. And then in the morning, when I came to tell you that I loved you, and that I wanted to start again, and I saw Ian sitting there half naked, I felt as though I was being eaten alive with jealousy’

  ‘Is that why you were so angry?’

  ‘Angry? I damn near burst a blood vessel! When I thought of you with him… I didn’t know what I wanted most—to strangle you with my bare hands, or to hear you crying my name in that little soft voice you only use when we’re making love. I love you, Storm,’ he said abruptly, searching her face. ‘More than I can ever tell you. Will you marry me?’

  Happiness flooded through her, her body trembling with eagerness as she reached up towards him.

  His kisses had a new tenderness, his expression was rueful as he pulled the towel firmly round her.

  ‘Having waited this long, I can wait a little longer, but not too long,’ he warned her huskily. ‘The moment your parents get back we’re getting married. I guess they’ll want the full works, white dress and all, but no more scenes like this. My self-control is a mite precarious. You do things to me that I didn’t think possible.’

  ‘What about Madeleine?’ Storm asked jealously, her eyes darkening as she remembered the pain she had experienced when she saw him with the other girl.

  ’Madeleine’s a girl who doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no,’ Jago told her dryly. ‘What you thought you saw in my study was her way of trying to convince me that I should help her with her career. If you hadn’t run off when you did, you’d have seen me telling her that I haven’t reached the stage yet where I need to pay for my sex.’

  ‘I think I’ve loved you right from the beginning,’ Storm confessed, ‘But I was so frightened I clung to David, knowing that my independence would never be threatened by him. Every time you touched me I wanted you more, but I kept telling myself it was just desire…’

  ‘You were driving me mad,’ Jago admitted. ‘I knew I was getting through to you physically, although you wouldn’t admit it, but that wasn’t enough. Every time you told me you loved Winters I had to stop myself from forcibly tearing him apart. You’ve put me through hell these last few weeks,’ he whispered huskily, kissing her deeply, ‘but soon I’ll be in heaven.’

  Storm melted against him, knowing there was no longer any need to pretend, her response instinctive and total.

  When Jago raised his head, he was breathing heavily, his taut muscles betraying the self-control he was exerting.

  ‘When did you know that you loved me?’ Storm murmured, her hands stroking his skin. He captured them, smiling wryly.

  ‘Do you want an imbecile for a husband? If so you’re going the right way to drive me completely out of my mind. If you must have the truth,’ he said softly, ‘I fell head over heels in love with you the first time I saw you.’

  ‘In David’s office?’

  He shook his head, his eyes gleaming.

  ‘Long before that. The I.B.A. told me months ago that they were worried about Radio Wyechester. They take a keen interest in new stations—after all, they’ve got their reputation to consider and a bad station reflects badly on them. They asked me if I’d be interested in taking over because they knew that I was looking for something new. At first I refused. I remembered Winters from the B.B.C. I hadn’t liked him then, and I didn’t want to get involved with him again. Just out of idle curiosity I went through all the personal files the I.B.A. sent me. Yours was the first. The moment I opened it and saw your photograph, I knew that I was going to take over the station no matter what I had to do to get it. I was plotting your downfall long before you even knew it.

  ‘Ian will be here soon with your clothes,’ he added, ‘and while I’m pretty sure he’s in no doubt about the way I feel about you, I don’t think he should find us like this, I got quite a shock when he introduced himself as your brother. When I saw you at the Country Club last night I could willingly have murdered you! What’s the matter?’ he asked as Storm placed her fingers against his lips.

  ‘If Ian’s going
to come and interrupt us, I don’t think we should waste time talking,’ she said huskily, drawing him down against her, her mouth parting in mute invitation.

  ‘Storm!’ Jago groaned protestingly, but his hands were already sliding beneath the towel, sending explosive waves of delight coursing through her, his heart thudding betrayingly against her as he told her throatily of his love.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story by

  New York Times bestselling author

  PENNY JORDAN,

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  CHAPTER ONE

  “THE THING IS, Mr. Valenti, I’m pregnant.”

  Renzo Valenti, heir to the Valenti family real estate fortune, known womanizer and chronic overindulger, stared down at the stranger standing in his entryway.

  He had never seen the woman before in his life. Of that he was nearly one hundred percent certain.

  He did not associate with women like this. Women who looked like they had spent a hot, sweaty afternoon traipsing through the streets of Rome, rather than a hot, sweaty afternoon tangled in silk sheets.

  She was red-cheeked and disheveled, her face void of makeup, long dark hair half falling out of a bun that looked like an afterthought.

  She was dressed the same as many American college students who flooded the city in the summer. She was wearing a form-fitting black tank top and a long, ankle-length skirt that nearly covered her dusty feet and flat, unremarkable sandals that appeared to be falling apart.

  Had she been walking by him outside, he would never have paid her any notice. Except she was in his home. And she had just said words to him no woman had said to him since he was sixteen years old.

  But they meant nothing, as she meant nothing.

  “Congratulations. Or condolences,” he said. “Depending.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No,” he said, his voice cutting through the relative silence of the grand antechamber. “I don’t. You practically burst into my home telling my housekeeper you had to see me, and now here you are, having pushed your way in.”

  “I didn’t push my way in. Luciana was more than happy to let me in.”

  He would never fire his housekeeper. And the unfortunate thing was, the older woman knew it. So when she had let a hysterical girl into his home, he had a feeling she considered it punishment for his notorious behavior with the opposite sex.

  Which was not fair. This little creature—who looked as though she would be most at home sitting on a sidewalk in the vicinity of Haight-Ashbury, playing an acoustic guitar for coins—might well be some man’s unholy punishment. But she wasn’t his.

  “Regardless, you’re not drawing this out and making a show, and I have no patience for either.”

  “It’s your baby.”

  He laughed. There was absolutely no other response for such an outrageous statement. And there was no other way to remove the strange weight, the strange tension that gripped him when she spoke the words.

  He knew why it affected him. But it should not.

  He could imagine no circumstance under which he would touch such a ridiculous little hippie. And even so, he had just spent the past six months devoted to the world’s most obscene farce of a marriage.

  And though Ashley had been devoted to the pleasure of both herself—and other men—during their union, he had been faithful.

  A woman with a small baby bump, barely showing beneath that skin-tight top, claiming to be carrying his child could be absolutely nothing but ridiculous to him.

  He’d had nothing at all but six months of fights, dodging vases flung in a rage by his crazy wife—who seemed to do her best to demolish the stereotype that Canadians were a nice and polite people—and then days on end of ridiculous cooing like he was some kind of pet she was trying to tame again after a sound beating.

  Little realizing that he was not a man to be tamed, and never had been. He had married Ashley to make a point to his parents, and for no other reason. As of yesterday, he was divorced and free again.

  Free to take this little backpacker in any way he wanted to, if he so chose.

  Though, she would find the only place he wanted to take her was out the front door, and back onto the streets she had come from.

  “That, you will find, is impossible, cara mia.” Her eyes went round, liquid, shock and pain visible. What had she imagined would happen? That he would fall for this ruse? That she would find her salvation in him? “I can see how you would build some strange fantasy around the idea I might be your best bet for help,” he said, attempting to keep his tone calm. “I have a reputation with women. But I have also been married for the past six months. So whatever man is responsible for knocking you up in a bar crawling with tourists and never calling again? He is not me, nor will you ever con me into believing it is. I am divorced now, but in the time I was married I was faithful to my wife.”

  “Ashley,” she said, blinking rapidly. “Ashley Bettencourt.”

  He was stunned, but only momentarily, by her usage of his wife’s name. It was common knowledge, so of course if she knew about him, she would know about Ashley. But if she knew he was married, why not choose an easier target?

  “Yes. Very good,” he said. “You’re up on your tabloid reading, I see.”

  “No, I know Ashley. She’s actually the person I met in a bar crawling with tourists. She’s the one who knocked me up.”

  Renzo felt like he’d been punched in the chest. “Excuse me? None of what you’re saying makes sense.”

  The little woman growled, lifting her hands and gripping her head for a moment before throwing them back down at her sides, curling her fingers into fists. “I am…I am trying. But I thought you would know who I was!”

  “Why would I know who you are?” he asked, feeling at a loss.

  “I just… Oh, I should never have listened to her. But I was… I am just as stupid as my dad thinks I am!” She was practically wailing now, and he had to admit, this farce was inventive even if it was damned disruptive to his day.

  “Right at this moment I’m on your father’s side, cara, and I will remain so until you have offered me an explanation that falls somewhere short of being as stupid as my ex-wife getting you pregnant.”

  “Ashley hired me. I was working at a bar down by the Colosseum, and she and I started talking. She was telling me about the issues in your marriage and the trouble you were having conceiving…”

  The words made his gut twist. He and Ashley had never attempted to conceive. By the time they’d gotten to a place where they might discuss giving him an heir to his empire, he’d already decided that no amount of shock value made her worth it as a wife.

  “I thought it was weird, her talking to me like that. But she came back the next night, and the next. We talked about how I ended up in Italy and how I had no money…” She blinked. “And then she asked me if I would consider being her surrogate.”

  Pressure built in Renzo’s chest until it exploded. English deserted him entirely, a string of vulgar Italian flowing from his lips like a foul river. “I don’t believe it. This is some trick that bitch has put you up to.”

  “It’s not. I promise you it isn’t. I had no idea that you didn’t know. No idea at all. It was all very… What she said… It made sense. And…and she said it would be easy. Just a quick trip to Santa Firenze, where the procedure is legal, and then I just have to…be the oven. I was supposed to get paid to make the bread, so to speak, and then…well, give it to the person I…baked it fo
r. Someone who wanted the baby desperately enough to ask for help from a stranger.”

  Panic tore through Renzo like a wild beast, savaging his chest, his throat. Making it impossible to breathe. What she was saying was impossible. It had to be. Mostly.

  Ashley was…unpredictable. And God knew how that might manifest. Especially since she’d been enraged by the divorce—made simple because of their marriage in Canada, which she had felt was calculated on his part. It was, of course.

  But she wouldn’t have done this. She couldn’t have. Still, he pressed.

  “It made sense to you that a woman pursued surrogacy, and claimed to have a husband whom you never saw?”

  “She said that it would be impossible for you to come to the clinic. She could only do it because she wore large sunglasses and a hat. She said that you were far too recognizable. She said you were very tall.” She swept her hand up and down. “You are. Obviously. You don’t blend. Not even sunglasses would disguise… You know what I mean.”

  “I know nothing. It has become apparent to me over the past few minutes that I know less than I thought. That snake talked you into this. How much did she pay you?”

  “Well, she hasn’t given me everything yet.”

  He laughed, the sound bitter. “Is that so? I hope that final price is a high one.”

  “Well, the problem is that Ashley said she doesn’t want the baby anymore. Because of the problems that you’re having.”

  “Problems?” The question was incredulous. “Does she mean our divorce?”

  “I… I guess.”

  “So, you did some cursory research on us, and then no more?”

  “I don’t have internet at the hostel,” she said flatly.

  “You live in a hostel?”

  “Yes,” she said, her cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. “I was just passing through. And I ran out of money. Took a job at a bar, and I’ve been here longer than I anticipated. Then I met Ashley about three months ago.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “Only about eight weeks. I just… Ashley decided she didn’t want the baby anymore. And I don’t want to… I don’t want to end the pregnancy. And I thought that even though she said you didn’t want to handle any of this, because it damaged your view of the whole thing… I wanted to come to you. I needed to make sure.”