And for the first time, some hope for them welled up in her chest.
“But I feel something for you,” he whispered against her ear. “I do.”
“Don’t ask me if we can have sex again,” she begged. “You’ll ruin it.”
He dropped his hands from her face and said, “I won’t. I’ll go back to my room now, and you can go out to dinner with your family or whatever you were going to do, and we’ll talk about all this tomorrow. Okay? We’ll talk.”
He was so sincere she laughed. “Don’t go. My family told me I should sleep. They’re not expecting me for dinner.”
“They aren’t?”
“No, but I’m starving. Why don’t you order some room service? A burger and fries for me and then whatever you want.”
She listened as he picked up the phone and fumbled through it, proud of him for not calling Marcia to coach him.
When he hung up, he said, “About a half hour. Maybe more. Apparently, they’re busy.”
“Perfect. So while we’re waiting… We can have sex again. In fact, I’m insisting on it. Just don’t ask again, okay?”
What she didn’t tell him was that it might be the last time. For a while anyway. She had to make up her mind what to do about this situation. Just as she was a modern feminist who didn’t sleep with the boss her first day on the job—uh, well, she didn’t believe in doing it anyway—she also didn’t believe in letting Price Charming —or in this case, Prince UnCharming—sweep her and her student loans off her feet.
She had to figure this out for herself.
But she wanted him. Now. Again.
He narrowed his eyes at her as she tugged him into the bedroom. “This isn’t some kind of trick question or test, is it? Because I really have had a tough two days. You can cut me a break, can’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
She texted Brandy to say she was going to “sleep”—putting it in quotes to give Brandy a sense that something else might be going on—and to call the room if she needed to get a hold of her. Then she switched off her phone and threw her arms around his neck, loving the way he leaned into her, his whole body becoming loose and fluid, the tension draining from him.
“Well, I’ve had a wonderful two days. Except for the plane crash, I mean. A really fabulous, cool, special two days.”
She kissed him and he murmured, “Me, too. Me, too.”
He pushed her to the bed and climbed on top of her, loosening the tie to her robe and slipping his hand inside, warm against her hip. “You smell all nice and clean.”
“I took a shower. It felt great.”
“I haven’t taken mine yet.” His hand slid lower. “I really should, but since you still have no underwear on, I’m having trouble summoning up the will to.”
“What if I take one with you?”
He grinned. “Perfect. Let me go back to my room for a second first.”
She pushed him off gently. “Uh-uh. You won’t need anything for this shower. Don’t go getting any ideas.”
She slipped the robe off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as she led him to the bathroom.
“I’m getting ideas already, believe me.”
She turned on the nozzle in the shower until steam came out, and when she glanced back at him, he was naked and ready. For more than a shower, his cock hard and throbbing, his eyes intense. They stepped under the water together, the shower roomy enough for both of them, a stool for sitting built into one corner.
She took command of the soap and washed his lean, muscular body with long leisurely strokes that left him breathing hard, one side of his mouth coming up. “Do I get a chance with that?” he asked.
“Nope. Turn around.”
As she lingered on his taut buns, he placed his palms on the tiles, dropping his head, and she went on tippy-toes to whisper in his ear, “I’m reminded I owe somebody a blow job.”
He groaned.
She urged him to the stool and placed a towel from the rack on the floor, kneeling down. He widened his legs so she came between them, her hands on his thighs. The hot stream of the shower beat on her back, and his eager cock reared inches from her mouth as he ran his thumbs along her lips, her cheeks.
She smiled, drawing the moment out. “Blow job. I take it from that look of anticipation on your, er,” she leaned closer to his erection, “face, that you’ve heard that term as well?”
“Any term for fellatio is firmly imprinted on my mind. Said once, I never forget it.”
“Mmmm, very much like a regular guy in that respect.”
She gripped the base of his cock, her hands still slippery from the soap, and took one long swipe, flicking her tongue over the head. He gasped as she rubbed and licked, leaning closer to take him farther into her mouth with each light pass around.
When he was hunched over with the pleasure of it, she took him as far down her throat as she could, keeping her eyes on him, reveling in the expression of ecstasy on his face. He dug his fingers into her wet hair, his whole body straining, as he watched her. Giving himself over to her, he murmured how good it felt, how sexy she was, how hot she made him.
She cupped his balls as she worked him, and he arched with a low groan.
“I’m close,” he muttered. “Very close. Should I—”
She sucked harder, feeling his surrender in a hot pulse against her tongue, her throat as he came with a hoarse cry, clutching her head to him, ever closer. She swallowed and he collapsed back on the stool.
“I think I was supposed to ask first about that last part,” he panted.
“Rules are made to be broken, remember?”
Smiling, very pleased to see him lose control for once, she stood, kicking the wet towel on the floor to the side, and after a minute he got to his feet as well, putting his arms around her from behind and whispering in her ear, “I’ve never gotten off like that with another woman.”
She laughed. “Mmmm, am I going to hear all the sex slang you know now?”
“Only if you’ll talk dirty back to me. I love to pick up new vocabulary.”
He took the soap and washed her thoroughly, though she assured him she’d already bathed, lingering over her nipples, her breasts, between her legs, kissing her lightly, her body tingling from the caresses.
When they got out of the shower and dried each other off, long teasing motions, and wandered back into the bedroom, she said, “You don’t by any chance have more condoms, do you?”
He smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“You must have had quite a few in that wallet of yours.”
“I stopped in the gift shop before I came up. Even though you were cold-shouldering me then, hope springs eternal and all that. They’re next door.”
She opened the adjoining door between their rooms. “Let’s say we leave this open all night, shall we?”
Later, much later, after they had voraciously eaten the room service and made love again, she lay in his arms, completely full in all sense of the word, and he asked, “So what’s the next step? Should we go back to New York? I can call the meeting in London off, and we can decide—”
“Shhh.” She kissed him silent. “Let’s not talk about tomorrow.”
Rays of orange sunlight peeked through the window, and the clock read eight a.m. After switching on her phone, she saw five voicemails, one from each of her sisters who weren’t here. How sweet. She’d listen to them later.
Since there was also a text from Brandy fifteen minutes before that they were going down to breakfast, she left Mason sleeping in her bed and dressed to join them.
Her father rose when she entered the restaurant and kissed her on the cheek. “I thought we were going to have to send Joey up there to wake you up. Good sleep, honey?”
“Great. Thanks, Dad. I’m starved.”
“You look so much better.” Her mom patted her hand as she slid between them, Brandy and Joey on the other side.
“I feel better.”
Brandy watched he
r with a closed lip smile, and Camilla blushed at the scrutiny.
“Well, I, for one, have to get back to Detroit, guys,” her sister said. “As much fun as this little interlude has been, Mikey had a spelling test and got a D on it, and hubby is blaming it on my absence, now that he knows you’re okay.”
“What do they need to be expert spellers for these days?” her dad asked, sprinkling pepper on his fried eggs as the waitress noticed Camilla and came over to take her order. She asked for an omelet, extra cheesy, and rye toast with coffee. Joey was digging into a cinnamon roll, and French toast with more syrup than bread was waiting for his attention.
“Isn’t there spell check now?” her dad continued.
“You know what, Cammy?” Joey said between mouthfuls. “I got licorice from the store over there this morning.”
“But you’re saving it for the plane ride home,” their mom reminded him before turning to Brandy. “I hope Brad isn’t going to make Mikey feel bad about his grade. That just compounds itself, you know. You have to give positive reinforcement.”
“I know, Mom.”
They were all talking at once, a mere echo of the true cacophony that could abound when the entire family was present, principals and spouses and children, generations of similar voices all talking to and with and over each other.
Camilla soaked it in, smiling. Though she spoke with her family on the phone often, it had been too long since she had been home. Three months at least.
Mason entered the restaurant, his clothes the same as the ones he had worn the day before, his hair a mass of curls. He searched her out as if she were a beacon in a stormy sea and nodded when he saw her, heading for their table. He looked hesitant and adorable, and her heart beat faster at the sight of him. Nervous as she was to have him interact with her family, she was glad that he was making the effort to come down and join them. Her father rose from his chair when he got there. “Mr. Talbot.”
He regarded the outstretched hand, and after a slight hesitation, took it. “Good morning, sir.”
She smiled at him. “Pull up a chair.”
A waitress brought him an extra chair, and he ordered coffee.
“Hey.” Joey leaned over Brandy to get at him. “Are you Cammy’s boss?”
“Yes.” Though Mason was pale and tapping his fingers against the napkin holder, he was obviously trying, looking over at her brother. “And you must be Joey.”
He grinned wide. “I am. I’m Cammy’s brother and Brandy’s brother and Carly’s brother and—”
“You don’t need to go through everybody, Joey,” Camilla said quickly with a laugh.
“I know all their telephone numbers, too,” he said. “Maybe I can have yours? What did you say your name was again?”
“Mason.” Louder this time.
Brandy snuck a pinch of Joey’s sweet roll, knowing that would get his attention, and he laughed, slapping her hand away. “Hey, that’s mine! You get your own.”
He went back to chomping on his breakfast before his sister could try to get to it again.
Mason tapped a fork against the table edge, then his coffee cup. An intense study of the salt shaker was next.
“So,” her father tried to keep the conversation going, “you’re CEO of your own company?”
“Yes.”
“How’s that?” her mother asked as everybody but Joey stared at Mason.
“Fine. Just fine.”
“Dad and Mom were teachers,” Brandy offered.
“Mmmm.”
The waitress poured his coffee and he drank it, both hands clutched around the cup, blowing on the steaming brew, taking his time and devoting all his concentration to it as if it were the most difficult production problem he’d ever encountered.
Brandy caught Camilla’s eyes, and they smiled at each other, a joint recognition of how nervous Mason was.
“What did your parents do, Mason?” her father asked. “Is it a family business?”
“No, it’s a billion dollar public company—I don’t have the exact figure for the shareholder value at this minute—and my mother was an actress.”
Whoa. That was a surprise. The actress part.
“My father was a sperm donor.”
Both her mom and dad dropped their mouths open, and her dad squirmed a little, saying, “Hmmph.”
“What’s a sperm?” Joey piped up with, picking the worst moment to join the conversation.
“It’s the male reproductive cell deriving from the Greek word—”
“Thank you,” her mom said loudly as her dad narrowed his eyes and blew out his cheeks. “I don’t think we need to go into that right now.”
Mason darted his eyes back to Camilla, as if for direction. Any minute now he’d be calling Marcia.
“Did I tell you, Joey, that when Mason and I were in the park, we saw a bear?”
“A bear?” Joey laughed. “Like a teddy bear?”
“You saw a bear, Cammy?” her mother said, not laughing.
“We did and Mason was going to beat it off with a big stick.”
“That probably would not have not worked,” Mason pointed out. “But it looked relatively small—”
“As far as bears go,” she added.
“—although large enough to maim us.”
“Enough of the bear,” her mother snapped at her. “I was worried sick as it was.”
“What’s a sperm?” Joey asked again, and her father shifted in his seat.
“More coffee please?” he called to the waitress who was passing by.
Brandy spoke in low tones to Joey, while Mason asked Camilla, “Am I not supposed to answer that?”
Both her parents regarded Mason as if he were making a smart-alecky joke, flashing him identical looks of thinned lips and narrowed eyes, suspicious he was making fun of Joey or Joey’s question at any rate.
Camilla said quickly, “Mason doesn’t have any siblings.”
“Hmmm,” her father said. “I think even only children know that there are certain things you don’t discuss at the breakfast table, in front of ladies.”
That last part was issued in a challenging way, staring at Mason as if daring him to suggest Jack Anderson’s wife and daughters were not ladies.
“How was it being an only child?” Brandy asked, trying to come to Mason’s rescue. “I often thought as a kid, sharing hand-me-downs—”
“With seven girls, what in heaven’s name were we supposed to do with the clothes once one grew out of something and the other was the perfect size for it?” their mother interrupted, smiling at Mason. She was often a swing vote on the boyfriend interrogation and used her power freely, going from one side to the other. Not that her parents thought he was her boyfriend of course.
“I guess it would depend on the condition of the clothing,” Mason answered, freezing the older woman’s smile. “I imagine the concept of diminishing returns starts to figure in at some point.”
“Mason actually spent a lot of time at boarding school,” Camilla jumped in, only remembering at the last minute this was a sore subject for her parents, who had been advised time and again to send Joey away to a group home and who were just as adamant about keeping him with them.
“I never understood how a parent could send their child away,” her father said quietly.
“Statistics actually support—” Mason began, and Jack Anderson didn’t wait for the end of the thought.
“I’m not talking about statistics,” he said, gesturing with his fork to Joey. “I’m talking about real life. Real people.” He added in an undertone, cutting into his hash browns, “Which some people don’t know much about, I suspect.”
The table was, for an Anderson meal, uncharacteristically silent.
“We should probably get going,” her dad said, laying his fork down. “Brandy has to get back.”
“You’re not finished with your eggs,” her mother admitted.
“We can get something on the way.” He gestured to the waitress for th
e bill, glanced at it, then handed over several tens with a smile and a short nod.
“We’re taking a plane, Dad, not driving. But I guess you’re right. That jet had such yummy snacks anyway.” Brandy smiled again at Mason as she started to pull Joey up with her. “Let’s go. Daddy wants to get going.”
“Well, very nice to meet you, Mr. Talbot.” Her mother started to rise as well.
“Yes,” her father said without enthusiasm.
“I don’t want to go!” Joey objected to getting up from the table before he had a clean plate, but Brandy tugged at his hand.
“Come on, kiddo. Don’t you want to say hi to Mikey when Mom and Dad drop me off? If you do, we have to get home before he’s off to soccer practice.”
“What room are you in, Mom?” Camilla asked. “I’ll be right up to say good-bye.”
“No! I don’t want to go yet,” Joey said loudly. With his resistance and huffing, as well as expressive hand gestures meant to convey how upset he was at the early departure, he managed to jar against Brandy’s plate of half-eaten scrambled eggs and jellied toast enough to tip it into Mason’s lap.
Mason popped up, startled. “Shit!”
And the plate went crashing to the floor in a spectacular burst of noise, with the shattered pieces at his feet as he stared down, his lap a smear of yellow goop and strawberry jam.
Chapter Nine
Joey’s eyes widened and welled up with tears. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! And he swore!”
When Joey got to crying, well maybe the Anderson daughters didn’t resort to tears anymore, but their brother was pretty good at it. The whole restaurant craned their necks in the direction of the uninhibited wails, and Brandy and her mother simultaneously flanked Joey, patting his back and telling him to calm down, assuring him it had been an accident.
“You okay there?” her father asked Mason gruffly.
Joey surged forward, a master at getting in someone’s face when he wanted to, his black-framed glasses no more than a few inches from Mason’s surprised blue eyes. “Listen, Mr. Mason, I didn’t mean—”
Tempting the New Boss Page 15