by Lucy Monroe
“You, however, are wrong.”
She was wrong about her concentration? Her usually efficient brain was not functioning at anything near normal capacity at the moment. “About what?”
“I do want to have sex with you.”
Her knees gave way. Luckily the bed was right behind her and she landed precariously on the edge. “W-what?”
“I think you heard me.”
She shook her head, but the buzzing his words produced did not abate. He hadn’t moved a centimeter. His entire posture where he leaned in the doorway, filling it, was one of relaxation. He couldn’t possibly be discussing sex with her and maintaining such insouciance. It wasn’t possible.
“You did, but I’ll say it again. I do want to have sex with you.”
She lost her hold on the bed. The carpet muffled the thump as she landed on her bottom on the floor with her back against the mattress and box spring. “You didn’t just say that.”
He moved. Finally. It was to come across the room and offer his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. Her bum was sore.
“I did, but that’s not what I came in here to talk about.”
“It’s not?” A modicum of sanity reasserted itself in her beleaguered brain. “Of course it’s not.”
“I’m truly sorry, but I’m in the middle of an experiment I can’t leave right now.”
“But you’re here.” Okay, so her thinking processes weren’t completely restored.
“For just a minute. I came down to tell you and Jacob I wouldn’t be joining you for dinner. I don’t know when I’ll be able to break away from the experiment again tonight.”
Why was he telling her this?
“We’ll have to put off the rest of your presentation until later.”
Two things struck her at once. The first was that Simon was capable of divorcing himself from whatever small desire he felt for her pretty darn easily. The second was that he was explaining himself in a way he hadn’t so far in their brief acquaintance. She liked it.
“Thank you for telling me.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome.”
His hands dropped from her shoulders. “I’ve got to go.”
“Right.”
“We’ll talk later.”
“Later,” she parroted.
Then he left, taking his sinfully sexy body with him. She collapsed back on the bed and wondered if the Peace Corps had any use for a slightly damaged corporate negotiator in a country like Zimbabwe or something.
Simon picked up the calibrator, made note of what it read and wrote a number down on the pad beside his right hand. It was just about what he had expected, but the slight discrepancy bothered him. He would have to find the reason for it before he could go forward with the fuel cell energy project. He started mentally ticking through the list of possible reasons, writing down ideas on isolating root cause as he went.
He stalled at the second likely test while his thoughts went winging back to his brief discussion with Amanda earlier. He could still see the look of shock on her face when she realized he had overheard her telling her friend, vehemently no less, that he did not want to have sex with her.
Was she blind?
Just because he wasn’t acting on his desires didn’t mean they had suddenly disappeared. She’d been there in the gym when he’d almost kissed her and she’d known what he’d been about to do. He might be clueless about women sometimes, but he knew when one was gearing up for a liplock with him.
He’d been so irritated with her feigned ignorance that he’d told her she was wrong. Not the brightest thing he’d done since first discovering sex. He shouldn’t have admitted it out loud. It was a weapon she could use against him.
He wasn’t about to give her the chance. He would listen to her proposal and then she could go back to her hotel in Port Mulqueen. With the temptation of her body gone, maybe he would get some actual work done.
He’d never experienced this kind of distraction before. His concentration was usually absolute, but since meeting Amanda he had found himself thinking about her when he should be analyzing a problem. Even the multiple projects he had going right now were not enough to keep his mind off the tantalizing woman. One of the reasons for his three-day work fest had been a test he was forced to restart when he’d messed it up daydreaming about Amanda instead of keeping track of the energy levels.
He could not afford to be distracted right now. Not if he wanted to be the first designer to get proof of concept on a fiber-optic computer processor. His fuel cell project was an interesting diversion, something to keep his mind from getting locked into a single mode of thinking. He’d learned long ago that working on more than one project at a time, projects that were vastly different, kept his thought processes fresh.
Amanda was interfering with that. No doubt about it. Images of her in his bed plagued him far too often. He’d never been so obsessed with the idea of having a woman, so consumed with the desire to know what she looked like out of her clothes, how she felt, how she tasted. Not even his precocious adolescence had elicited this kind of absorption in him.
It was an absorption he could not afford if he wanted to prevent his cousin from merging Brant Computers with Extant Corporation. Amanda’s ideas were good, but she and Eric were considering too many of the wrong things in their enthusiasm for the merger. Simon refused to let them forget the company’s beginnings, the commitment Brant Computers had always had toward its employees.
The temptation of Amanda’s body could very well undermine his efforts in that direction. She had to go.
Out of his house and preferably back to California with a “No,” from Eric ringing in her ears.
Warm, salty wind caressed Amanda’s face as she sat on the bobbing dock, her feet dangling in the chilly water of the Puget Sound. There were a lot of things she didn’t miss about home. She didn’t miss the smog, or the stalled traffic on the freeway. She didn’t pine for the fast pace or the crowded malls, but she did miss a warm ocean.
Her feet were going numb from the cold. Was that a bad thing? You couldn’t get frostbite from water, could you? It probably wasn’t worth the risk. Sighing, she pulled her feet from the water and drew her knees to her chest. She watched with much more attention than it deserved as a puddle of water formed around her feet on the sun washed gray wood.
Simon had said he wanted to have sex with her and her mind had gone as numb as her feet were now. Her thought process was still sluggish as she attempted to deal with the ramifications of his statement.
He wanted her.
So, why had he pulled away from kissing her in the gym? Or had he? She still couldn’t be entirely certain he had meant to kiss her at all. When it came to men’s passion and their desire to act on it, she was a total novice despite having been married.
She’d been tempted to call Jillian back and tell her everything, but in the end, Amanda had decided against making the call. Because she already knew what her friend would say.
Jill would say, “Go for it.”
No hesitation. No other considerations. She would expect Amanda to ignore her own less than successful attempt at sexual intimacy in the past, to ignore the fact that Daniel wanted her to use sex as a weapon against Simon and to forget her sense of propriety when it came to business relationships.
The truly terrifying reality was that Amanda was considering doing just that. Without Jillian’s cajoling.
Amanda wanted Simon.
More than she had ever wanted another man. More than she had believed possible. She had long ago come to the conclusion that all the hype about making love was just that, hype. Or at least an aspect of reality she was not destined to experience.
She’d read somewhere that there was no such thing as a frigid woman, just an inept lover. She didn’t believe it. Or hadn’t . . . until Simon.
Her desire for him put paid to her certainty that she was not a very sexual being. She certainly felt sexual around him. In fact, it was hard
to focus on any other aspect of her humanity when he was around. She wanted to touch him. To be touched by him.
Just thinking about it had all sorts of interesting things happening to her body. Her nipples were tightening, puckering, getting hard. The rigid buds pressed against her legs that were drawn close to her chest. Her nipples had never before manifested any sort of sexual excitement until manipulated physically.
She could never remember feeling this throbbing ache between her thighs either, or the fluttery sensation in her stomach. Her breathing didn’t usually go ragged and uneven, not even in the act of intercourse.
But all of those things were happening right now and they were all for Simon. And not even Simon in the flesh, but the simple thought of him.
Her body wanted his possession. Okay, it wasn’t PC and she’d never say it out loud, but that was what she wanted. She wanted to feel him inside her, surrounding her, owning her for that brief time when their bodies meshed and sought the ultimate pleasure. An experience she’d never actually had.
She was too repressed to pursue it on her own. The mere thought of using mechanical devices made her blush. She’d definitely never known such a thing with Lance. She thought maybe she’d come close once or twice, but now she realized that what she’d mistaken for passion had been at best lukewarm physical pleasure.
“Some people have better things to do than to track down wayward guests and give them messages.”
Her head snapped up as a shadow fell over her and Jacob’s irascible voice jarred her from her thoughts. “Hello, Jacob. Am I the wayward guest?”
“Don’t see nobody else staying in Simon’s house, missy.”
She was getting used to his bouts of surliness. “I don’t either, so that must mean the message is for me,” she said with a sunny smile.
Was that approval she could see in his eyes? Maybe the old man was starting to like her.
“The boss said to tell you he would come down about nine o’clock.”
“Tomorrow morning?” She had to stifle her disappointment at having missed Simon when he’d surfaced from his lab.
“Tonight. Said to tell you he’d come to your room.” Jacob managed to lace the words with disapproval and a fair dose of innuendo all at once.
“At nine o’clock?” Her voice squeaked on the word nine. “In my room?”
“That’s what he said. I retire before that unless the boss instructs me other wise.”
So, she and Simon would effectively be alone. In her room. She felt like sticking her head in the frigid water of the sound. Anything to clear the morass of thoughts chasing themselves through her mind.
Was he planning to pursue his desire to have sex with her? She couldn’t believe he would have sent the message through Jacob, but then Simon didn’t do things the normal way. And she hadn’t been around when he’d come out of his lab, presumably to tell her himself.
“Simon wants to meet me at nine o’clock in my room?” she asked to verify the improbable message.
Jacob’s snort of impatience barely impinged on her consciousness. “That’s what I said. Do you need it in writing?”
She shook her head, as much to clear it as to negate his statement. “No. I’ve got it.”
Simon wanted to meet her in her room at nine o’clock that night. After Jacob had retired to his own quarters. Not exactly at bedtime, but too late to be considered strictly appropriate for a casual visit.
Oh, she had it all right.
The only problem was—what was she going to do with it?
Chapter 9
Simon laid down the calibrator and stretched. Flicking a glance at the digital atomic clock above his main workbench he winced. Nine-thirty. He’d told Jacob to tell Amanda he would be down at nine.
He hoped she wasn’t too irritated.
The thought annoyed him. He’d pretty much dismissed the frustration others had with his work habits since he was ten years old. Why were the worries coming to surface now, with a woman who was nothing more than a business contact and an unwelcome one at that?
Even if she was mad, he knew she’d still be up. She wanted a chance to convince him of that damn merger.
She was too dedicated to her job to go to bed in a huff of offended feminine pride at being forgotten. And he hadn’t forgotten her. If it had been anyone else, he would probably still be at his workbench. Not doing a quick finger-combing of his hair as he rapidly descended the stairs to the second floor.
The sweet fragrance of the peaches and cream candle she’d lit an hour ago filled Amanda’s room, but instead of soothing her, it mocked her attempt to create a mood of romance. He wasn’t coming. It was after nine-thirty. He’d definitely decided against acting on the mutual attraction between them.
She should be feeling relieved.
After all, she’d only decided at eight-thirty to take the advice she knew Jillian would have offered and go for it. Until then, she’d vacillated between the sane thoughts of her business-conscious brain and the insane urges of her heretofore unknown feminine desires.
She should be glad that his decision to stay away had saved her from herself. Maybe if it didn’t feel so much like a rejection, she would be. Certainly it made sense that he would have realized the inappropriateness of pursuing any kind of intimate relationship in their current situation. But why in Hades hadn’t he figured that out before sending that stupid message through Jacob?
And why hadn’t he had at least the courtesy to come down and tell her himself?
The thought that he’d gotten caught up in his lab experiments and forgotten her was no consolation.
That smacked of unpleasantly familiar rejection as well.
A sharp tattoo sounded on her door and all the air in her body seemed to expel.
He was here. Heavens. What should she do now?
The knock sounded again. “Amanda?”
Open the door. That’s what she had to do. She walked across the room on bare feet, the shimmering burgundy of her painted toenails flashing in the periphery of her vision with every step.
The color went nicely with the Bordeaux satin tap pants and camisole she was wearing. She’d spent a full fifteen minutes applying the nail polish, letting it dry while she brushed her long hair into a dark brown curtain that gleamed like silk in the flickering light of the candle.
She reached for the door handle with a trembling hand and then pulled it open.
Simon’s fist was raised to knock again. He let it drop while shock registered on his face. “I know I’m a little late, but I didn’t think you’d be going to bed so early.”
Why was he looking so surprised?
“It’s only nine-thirty,” he added.
She looked over her right shoulder at the red glow of her digital alarm clock. “Nine-forty-two actually.”
“Look, I know it probably irritated you that I forgot the time, but I didn’t forget you completely.” Far from looking like a man bent on seduction, Simon looked tired and cranky. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes.” Was she acting annoyed? She didn’t think she was.
“I can’t believe you’re going to dismiss the chance to talk about the merger just because I’m a half an hour later than I said I’d be.” Outrage laced his voice. “Hell, you moved into my house so you could catch me between experiments. Going to bed right now is hardly the behavior of a professional career woman intent on pursuing her objective.”
On that he had her complete agreement, but the rest of his words weren’t making any sense.
“You think I’m angry with you?” she asked, while trying to understand what was going on here. The sensual fog she’d been in since deciding to “go for it” was clouding her ability to reason.
He tipped his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Gunmetal eyes reflecting weariness pinned her with unconcealed annoyance. “Don’t play this I’m not mad, just tired routine. It’s such a female thing to do and not at all what I would expect of a w
oman dedicated to getting the job done.”
As the desire that had overridden her usual caution began to wane under Simon’s anger, the inconsistencies in the situation infiltrated her consciousness. Inconsistencies she would have noticed immediately if she hadn’t been so overwhelmed by the prospect of going to bed with him.
He was not acting like an amorous lover. In fact, nothing he’d said so far indicated any sort of desire on his part whatsoever. As her now nimble brain went back over what he’d said so far, the sick feeling of embarrassment started to crawl along her nerve endings.
He hadn’t meant making love at all.
Simon had wanted to meet her to discuss the merger.
How stupid could one woman possibly be? “Why did you insist on meeting in my bedroom?” Her voice was too high, but there was nothing she could do about that.
He frowned. “I didn’t insist. I told Jacob I’d look for you in your room so I wouldn’t spend a half an hour searching the house for you when I came downstairs. What does where I asked to meet you have to do with your childish display of temper?”
He thought she was being childish? Everything finally made sense. Simon had wanted to discuss the merger. He believed that because he was late, she’d gotten ready for bed in some kind of juvenile act of rebellion. While not exactly flattering, it beat the truly mortifying truth that she’d thought he’d wanted her.
She stepped back into the room, flipping on the overhead light as she went. “I’ll just get on some jeans and a sweater, all right? It gets cold in the evenings here. Really chilly, to tell you the truth.” She blew out the candle on her way by. “I’m not used to these kinds of temperatures.”
She was babbling, but she didn’t care. Maybe if she kept talking it would prevent him from clueing into what she’d really thought. Shame so familiar, it was almost a friend, surrounded her like the hot oppressive air of the Mojave Desert.
“It won’t take a sec,” she continued her babbling litany as she yanked on a pair of jeans right over her tap pants. “I’m sorry if you thought I was being childish. I thought you’d forgotten completely. That’s all,” she lied.