Laying a hand on his father’s arm, he gave a quick, supportive squeeze. “I’m glad, Dad.”
Daniel nodded and they said their goodbyes before Cullen headed back to the kitchen. Misty hadn’t eaten any more of her omelet, he noted, but she’d finished off the glass of milk he’d poured for her.
Good. He knew she was taking prenatal vitamins, but he intended to make sure she ate well while she was here, too.
“So…what did you think of my mom and dad?” he asked, helping her hop down from the stool. He held her a few seconds longer than was necessary, enjoying the feel of her bare arms under his hands and her belly bumping into his.
“They were very nice. Wonderful, really.” She chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. “I didn’t expect them to be so accepting of me or our situation.”
“I told you they would be. My mother is through the roof at the prospect of being a grandmother.” He shot her a wide grin. “In case you couldn’t tell.”
She chuckled and threw her arms around his neck. “I noticed. I’ve never had someone spend so much time feeling my belly.”
“Oh, yeah?” He slipped his hand between them and did just that.
“Well, except for you, of course. I don’t think you stopped touching my stomach all night, even in your sleep.”
“Get used to it,” he told her. “I have a lot of lost moments to make up for, and I plan to spend as much time as possible caressing your adorable pregnant body.”
His palm slid around her waist, to the small of her back, then the curve of her buttocks. A moan rumbled in her throat as her head fell back and he covered the pulse there with his lips.
“So what do you say?” he murmured against her warm skin. “Ready to marry me yet?”
He felt her muscles tighten for a second, then relax.
“Not yet,” she answered just before turning her face to his for a slow, lazy kiss.
Maybe she was coming around, he thought as her fingers danced down his arms and her tongue began to do wild, sexy things inside his mouth.
Because not yet didn’t necessarily mean no.
They made love right there in the kitchen, with Cullen being as careful with her as he would be with a delicate piece of china.
Then, after rearranging their clothes, Cullen offered to show her the city. He’d taken the day off, anyway, and she’d never been to New York before.
He wouldn’t let her overexert herself, so they took a cab to Central Park, where they spent hours of a sunny May afternoon strolling hand-in-hand, admiring the trees and fountains and children playing.
He showed her the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, Radio City Music Hall and gave her a leisurely tour of the Elliott Publication Holdings building on Park Avenue, between Fiftieth and Fifty-first Streets.
The lobby alone took up two stories, with tall windows, granite floors and so many live trees and plants that it looked like a conservatory.
Cullen stopped at one of the large granite security stations to check her in and get her a guest pass. It probably wasn’t necessary, he told her, but this way she wouldn’t cause questions or concern if they happened to split up.
At the bank of elevators, he scanned his own identification card and they headed upstairs.
Mailing and shipping for the entire building took up the third floor, the cafeteria the fourth, and the gym was on the fifth. She knew for a fact Cullen spent a good amount of time using the weights and machines there; she felt the proof of that beneath her fingertips every time they made love.
They skipped levels six through eighteen and twenty through twenty-four, which held various meeting rooms, boardrooms and magazine offices, heading straight for Snap on nineteen.
As the elevator whisked them silently upward, he explained which magazines were housed on which floors and what the publications entailed in a way he hadn’t before. She was familiar with EPH, of course—soon after they’d begun their affair, she’d made a point of studying as much as she could about the Elliott empire without letting him know—but he seemed more in his element now, more willing to take the time to share details.
The fifteenth floor, he told her, was dedicated to HomeStyle magazine, known for its focus on fashion for the home; seventeen housed Charisma—fashion for the body; and Snap was sandwiched between their showbiz publication, The Buzz, on eighteen and Pulse for the news on twenty.
It was enough to make her head spin, but she listened intently and nodded in all the right places because Cullen’s job and his family’s business really did fascinate her.
The elevator doors swished open and Cullen led her off the car. With her hand in his, she stopped in her tracks and stared.
“Oh, Cullen, it’s beautiful.”
He threw her a pleased smile. “We like it.”
The entire floor was decorated in black and white and screamed Old Hollywood. Small framed photographs of Marilyn Monroe and James Cagney adorned the walls, along with much larger prints of some of Snap’s most famous covers.
It made her think of old black-and-white gangster films and starlets with breathless voices and hourglass figures today’s women could only dream of—which she supposed was the point.
Over the years, he’d described parts of his work environment, but she’d never imagined this. And now that she’d seen it, she knew she would never be able to picture him anywhere else. It suited him.
He introduced her to Snap’s petite brunette receptionist before she buzzed them through the glass doors that divided the reception area from the rest of the floor. Voices, ringing phones and the sounds of a bustling business filled the air as they moved between cubicles toward his office.
Misty was impressed by how many of EPH’s employees—Cullen’s coworkers—greeted him with a smile and wave, and seemed more than willing to accept her as one of Cullen’s close personal friends.
She wasn’t sure if they saw her as simply that—a friend—or assumed more was going on between them. They didn’t ask and Cullen didn’t tell. But either way, they were warm and pleasant, and made her feel more than welcome.
When they reached his office, he opened the door stamped Cullen Elliott, Director of Sales and ushered her inside.
“Very nice,” she told him, noticing that the room’s vintage décor matched the rest of the floor’s.
“Thanks.” He let go of her hand and rounded his desk. “Let me just check a couple of things, then we can get going.”
“Take your time.”
She wandered around the room, studying some of the framed magazine covers on the wall, his business degree and personal pictures.
Near his desk, she chanced a glance over his shoulder as he sifted through phone messages and memos. It took her a moment to realize he’d stopped moving and was now looking directly at her.
“Sorry.” Her cheeks heated and she took a step back, ready to return to her perusal of his photo gallery.
“Don’t be silly.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her onto his lap. “I was just thinking how beautiful you are, and how I wish I never had to come into work again so I could stay home twenty-four hours and worship you like the goddess you are.”
“Cullen…” Her laugh sounded brittle as she slapped at his chest.
“What’s the matter?” he asked with a chuckle of his own. “You don’t think I could do it?”
“Oh, I have no doubt you could do it, but—”
“Kiss me.”
“What?”
“Kiss me. Give me something to fantasize about when I’m locked in this dark, dreary office, working my fingers to the bone.”
She hardly thought of his office as dreary, even with a copious amount of black mixed with the white. But she leaned in and kissed him all the same, enjoying the warmth of his lips, his hands at her back.
“Knock, knock.”
Misty jumped at the unexpected female voice, quickly breaking away from Cullen’s embrace and getting to her feet. She turned her attention to the tall, attractiv
e blonde standing just inside the room, her hand still on the doorknob.
“Hey, Bridge,” Cullen said, though he sounded less than pleased by the interruption.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude, but I heard you two were in the building and just had to come up and meet Misty for myself.”
She moved forward, holding her hand out for Misty’s. Misty took it and let the woman shake her arm exuberantly.
“Misty, this is my cousin Bridget. She’s the photo editor for Charisma down on seventeen. Bridget, this is Misty Vale.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Misty said reflexively.
“It’s really nice to meet you,” Bridget returned, then backed up a few steps and plopped down in one of the guest chairs positioned in front of Cullen’s desk.
She was wearing a tight black skirt and black heels. Her blue blouse was sheer, with draping medieval sleeves and a low neckline that did a great job of showcasing her cleavage. The girl had fashion sense, that was for sure, and Misty found herself liking Cullen’s cousin immediately. She was even thinking of asking where she’d gotten her top.
“I have to tell you, Misty, you’re the hottest topic to hit the Elliott grapevine in ages. Granddad’s furious. ‘No grandson of mine is going to marry a stripper,’” she mimicked in a low, crusty tone.
Bridget made a face, rolling her eyes. “Please. If you ask me, the Elliotts could use some fresh blood in the old family tree. And it doesn’t get any fresher than a Las Vegas showgirl,” she added with a grin.
Misty felt the blood drain from her face and held a hand out toward the desk in case she started to sway.
“Bridge…” Cullen muttered in warning, apparently noticing her distress.
“Uncle Daniel and Aunt Amanda are over the moon, though. They’re so excited about Cullen getting married and giving them a grandchild, they’re just about floating. I wouldn’t be surprised if Aunt Amanda is already planning the wedding.”
“Bridge…”
“And you absolutely must tell me how the two of you met and got together. I have yet to hear the real story. All I’ve gotten are snippets, and I think most of them are merely conjecture. I’d much rather get it from the horses’ mouths, if you—”
“Bridget!”
Bridget blinked her blue eyes, her mouth left open. “Yes?”
“Shut. Up.”
Eight
Bridget blinked again, the shock on her face showing she was completely unaware of why Cullen was yelling at her. He took a deep breath and unclenched his teeth, trying to shake off the annoyance his cousin’s little diatribe had created.
“I didn’t mean to snap,” he told her calmly, “but I think you’re making Misty uneasy.”
Bridget glanced at Misty, her eyes going wide in comprehension. She leapt out of her chair and raced to give her an apologetic hug. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”
When she returned to her seat, she dragged Misty along, urging her into the chair beside her. “I didn’t mean to offend you or make you uncomfortable. I’m just so excited about having you in the family, my mouth got away from me.”
“As usual,” Cullen mumbled, then shot his cousin a wink and a grin when she scowled at him.
“It’s all right,” Misty said, smoothing a hand over her stomach, then clutching the arms of her chair until her fingers whitened.
“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have come on so strong. You’ve only been in town for one day. You probably haven’t even unpacked, and here I am putting you on the spot about the rest of your life.”
She shook her head, sending her shoulder-length hair into motion before reaching over to clasp one of Misty’s hands. “Forgive me. I’d like for us to be friends, and I don’t want you to think that I’m going to be the nosy or presumptuous kind.”
Cullen watched the two women exchange a look. As soon as Misty began to smile, Bridget did, too. His heart, which had stopped beating for the barest space of a second, picked up again and he released a silent sigh of relief.
He hoped Misty and his cousin could be friends. The more Elliotts who welcomed Misty with open arms and treated her like family right off the bat, the better his chances of convincing her to marry him…convincing her to stay.
“So what do you say I give you a call one of these days and we can go out to lunch, maybe do a little shopping?”
Misty’s lips tipped up in pleasure. “I’d like that.”
“Great. I’d better get back to work,” Bridget said, patting Misty’s knee and rising to her feet. “And leave you two to get back to whatever you were doing.”
She flashed Cullen a teasing grin, wiggling her fingers as she waved goodbye. Cullen couldn’t help but grin himself as the door closed behind her.
“In case you missed it,” he deadpanned, “that was my cousin, Bridget.”
Misty gave a breathless laugh. “So I gathered. She’s very…”
“Yeah, she is. But she’s a terrific girl. If she calls to ask you out to lunch or shopping, you should take her up on it. I really think you two will hit it off.”
Pushing back his rolling leather chair, he stood and moved in front of Misty and took her hands. She offered them willingly, and he pulled her up until her long, lithe body rested all along the length of his own. He leaned back against the edge of the desk, taking her with him.
“Now, where were we?” he asked, looking deeply into her emerald-green eyes.
“You were checking your messages,” she answered almost too innocently.
The corners of his mouth stretched in a grin. “That’s not how I remember it. As I recall, you were sitting on my lap and I was wondering if I could talk you into a little interoffice hanky-panky.”
“Why, Mr. Elliott,” she said, feigning offense, “that could be construed as sexual harassment.”
“Only if you work for me, which you don’t. And only if you aren’t interested, which I’m pretty sure you are.”
She made a purring sound of agreement, her fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. That action alone sent shivers of desire sliding in a domino effect down the line of his vertebrae.
He was just leaning in to kiss her, hoping for a lot more, when the phone rang.
“Son of a…” He scowled at the offending object, silently wishing it to Hades.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?”
Careful not to dump her on the floor, Cullen got up and set Misty on her feet. “Hell, no. Let it go to voice mail. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
Taking her hand, he straightened a couple of things on his desk, then led her to the door. “Let’s get out of here before something—or someone—else interrupts us.”
On the way to his town house on the Upper West Side, Cullen told the cab driver to take the long way, cruising down Broadway so Misty could ooh and ahh over the brightly lit marquees.
She’d never seen a Broadway play before, and he promised to escort her to any shows she wanted, any time she wanted. Of course, there were entirely too many to choose from, and in order to attend more than one or two, she would have to stay in Manhattan with him…and she wasn’t at all sure that was how things would work out.
They arrived home late in the afternoon, and though she had expected him to pick up where they had left off in his office, when they reached the bedroom, he instead insisted she lie down to rest. She was having too much fun and didn’t want to sleep, but he promised to take her out to dinner if she did—to his brother’s restaurant, Une Nuit, no less.
It was an offer she couldn’t refuse, and as soon as her head hit the pillow, she realized she must have been exhausted after all, because she drifted immediately off to sleep.
When she opened her eyes several hours later, Cullen was seated on the edge of the bed, smiling down at her. She startled at first, then pulled herself up to sit with her back against the headboard.
“How long have you been watching me sleep?”
“Just a few minutes.”
; She ran her fingers through her hair, sure it was a mess, then brushed at her mouth and the corners of her eyes. “Did I drool?” she wanted to know.
He chuckled. “No. You’re beautiful—and very ladylike—when you sleep.”
“Thank goodness. Is it time to go to dinner?”
“We can go any time you’re ready. Bryan has the family booth reserved for us, so there’s no hurry.”
He’d exchanged his casual clothes for a more formal pair of tailored black slacks and jacket with a white dress shirt underneath. Thankfully, she’d brought a black knit dress along that would be appropriate for dinner at his brother’s upscale restaurant.
“Let me change,” she said, throwing back the covers and sliding off the king-size mattress.
She thought he’d leave the room while she got ready, but he stayed where he was, watching her every move. If she hadn’t spent the past four years walking nearly or fully naked around him, she might have been embarrassed.
As it was, she barely would have noticed his presence if she hadn’t felt the heat of his gaze searing her skin while she stripped out of her skirt and top and slipped into black stockings and the versatile little black dress. Thankfully, the material stretched to cover the bump of her belly without needing alterations or camouflage to look decent.
Ten minutes later, she was ready to go. Cullen held her hand as they left the house and slowly walked the two short blocks to Une Nuit.
The restaurant was brimming with people when they arrived. Customers, dressed to the nines, smiled and laughed over their meals while the waitstaff bustled between tables taking orders and serving food.
Misty was immediately impressed by the ambience and popularity of Bryan’s establishment. Black suede banquettes and armchairs surrounded copper-topped tables, with low red lighting illuminating the entire space. She was used to bright and glitzy, but Une Nuit was the epitome of trendy but romantic.
As soon as the maitre d’ saw them, he smiled and led them through the main dining room to a private booth reserved for members of the Elliott family whenever they chose to drop by. Cullen gestured for her to take a place behind the table, then slid in next to her, thighs brushing.
Dynasties: The Elliotts, Books 1-6 Page 60