Beguiling the Boss

by Joan Hohl

  Jen halted once more to catch her breath.

  “Jen, you don’t have to—” Marsh began. She could hear anger in his tone, anger at the guy who had taken advantage of her.

  “No—” she cut him off “—let me finish now or I might never finish.”

  He stayed quiet.

  She continued. “He didn’t rape me, if that’s what you were thinking. I was willing, almost eager to experience the incredible pleasure every female I knew had raved about incessantly. He was eager, too—overeager. He yanked my jeans off and merely dropped his to his ankles. Then, well, it wasn’t good.” She closed her eyes. “Can we leave it at that?”

  Marsh tightened his arm around her and held her, rocking her slightly side to side while smoothing her hair.

  “It’s over, Jennifer.” His voice was soft, soothing, with underlying concern. “Did I hurt you like that?”

  Jen pushed back against his hold so she could look up at him. “No.” She shook her head. “After that initial discomfort and adjustment to you, I…I…”

  “You what?” Marsh murmured, gliding his hand from her hair to her back.

  Gathering herself, Jen boldly met his intent gaze. “I enjoyed it. I more than enjoyed it. It was…” She hesitated before admitting, “It was incredibly fantastic.”

  “Yeaaah,” he said softly, drawing the word out. “Wanna do it again?”

  Laughing softly, Jen freed her arms, clasped them around his neck and drew his mouth to hers. “Yes, please.”

  The second time was even better.

  They fell asleep locked in each other’s arms.

  Seven

  Jen woke a little after five in the morning. It was pitch-black in the room. Not wanting to wake Marsh, she refrained from lighting the bedside lamp, but to no avail. He woke while she was carefully disentangling herself from him.

  “What are you doin’?” he mumbled, reaching for her.

  Tossing back the covers she escaped his reach by slipping from the bed. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll only be a moment. Go back to sleep.”

  Once inside the bathroom, Jen knew she would be in there longer than a moment—the shower looked so inviting, and she felt so pleasantly achy.

  After cleaning off what was left of her makeup and brushing her teeth, she stepped into the shower, sighing with pleasure as the warm water cascaded over her body.

  While she was drying off, Jen noticed a shirt of Marsh’s hanging on the back of the door. Now feeling a little awkward walking around nude, she pulled on the shirt before leaving the room. She stopped dead at the sight that met her eyes on her first step into her bedroom.

  Stark naked, Marsh was leaning back against the headboard amidst the tangle of bedsheets and covers that had slid out of place during their rather hectic bout of sensual exercise.

  “What are you doing?”

  One browed arched. “Waiting for you.” His voice was both wry and dry. “More to the point, why are you dressed?”

  “I’m not fully dressed,” she returned, every bit as wryly and dryly. “I’m only wearing a shirt.”

  “Not for long,” he retorted, a sly smile crossing his face as his gaze traveled up and down her body.

  “Indeed?” Jen said, trying and failing to ignore the tingle along her spine.

  “Yes, indeed.” He clasped his hands behind his head.

  “Aren’t you going to shower?” she asked the first thought that swam into her squishy brain.

  “I think there’s plenty of time for that later.” He offered her a blatantly sexy smile. “Lose the shirt, lady mine, and come back to bed.”

  Jen was surprised to discover just how happy she was to toss off the shirt and crawl into the bed next to him.

  As before, Marsh pulled her tightly against him. Then, to her surprise, he gave her a soft, sweet kiss, settled into his comfort place and whispered, “Sleep in tomorrow.”

  She felt a moment of disappointment, and then suddenly felt as if she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Resting her head on his chest, she was asleep within seconds.

  Jen woke later to discover she was alone in the bed and it was past ten in the morning. It was Sunday, a perfect day for sleeping in. For a moment, she considered snuggling deeper into the comforter but a rumble in her stomach made the decision for her. She was hungry.

  Yawning and luxuriously stretching, she was quickly reminded of the exercise she and Marsh had indulged in during the night. She ached in very delicate places.

  It felt amazing.

  Pushing herself up, groaning at the pull in her thigh muscles as she slid her legs off the bed and stood up, Jen winced as she took a slow step.

  Wow, she thought, moving slowly to the bathroom. She’d had no idea she’d hurt like this after reveling in so much unbelievable pleasure.

  Can anyone say ecstasy?

  Jen laughed softly at the wayward thought that swirled through her mind. But, in truth she had achieved ecstasy, or at least that was how she’d describe the shattering, mind-bending sensation Marsh had given her.

  So she ached here and there…especially there! But oh, it was so worth it. Heaving a sigh of longing, Jen filled the tub with hot water.

  She caught her breath as she slid into the tub, releasing it in relief when the heat of the water slowly began to ease the soreness from between her legs. Leaning back against the end of the tub Jen luxuriated until the heat dissipated. Then, draining the water, she stood and had a quick sluice down with warm water.

  Forgoing makeup, she stepped into lacy panties and a matching bra. Wincing from a twinge of pain, she pulled on well-worn jeans, a cotton knit top and beaded-strap flip-flops.

  Glancing around, Jen considered cleaning the apartment even though she had cleaned it Friday evening. She knew what she was doing, of course—marking time, looking for an excuse, any excuse, to stay inside the apartment and hide out.

  Because Jen didn’t want to face Marsh. What could she say to him? Hey, you’re a terrific lover, let’s do it again sometime. No, she most certainly couldn’t say that, although that was the way of it. Even with her very limited knowledge she could tell he was an excellent and talented lover.

  He apparently had plenty of experience.

  She wondered if she’d passed the “compatibility test.”

  Jen sighed. Here she was, standing in the middle of her bedroom, dying for a cup of coffee and a big breakfast and afraid to go down the stairs and face him.

  It was then that a shocking thought slammed into her mind.

  Marsh hadn’t used protection…and she had never had a reason to go on the pill.

  What if…? Was it possible he had deliberately tried to impregnate her?

  Jen mentally blocked the very idea, telling herself she wouldn’t think of the possibility. Nevertheless, she did some quick mental tallying, relieved at the realization that it wasn’t the right time of the month for conception.

  Still, she knew the timing wasn’t always reliable. She began to tremble. Should she run to a pharmacy for a morning-after pill?

  Jen didn’t run—she didn’t even walk. She vacillated, uncertain, gnawing on her lip.

  Oh, for pity’s sake, move, she chided herself. You’re an adult woman, intelligent and strong. You can handle whatever fate throws at you. Now go get yourself a cup of coffee and something substantial to eat.

  But what if Marsh brought up the subject of marriage and babies again? What if that’s all last night had been about for him?

  Don’t go looking for trouble, she told herself. Deal with it if it comes looking for you.

  Squaring her shoulders, Jen left the room.

  So her breathing was a trifle uneven, her heart rate a bit fast.

  She’d live.

  * * *

  Marsh was in his office, sprawled lazily in his large butter-soft leather desk chair, the back of the seat facing the computer. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, his feet bare. He had left the door open a few inches,
waiting.

  After the singular intensity of his release both times at the shattering climax with Jen, Marsh had almost immediately fallen into a deep sleep. Yet he had awakened less than four hours later, wanting more of her. She had been so tight and warm and…

  Marsh felt certain Jen must be sore and aching. Only a brute would demand more, and he was no brute. His own body full, hurting with need, he’d slid her off his chest, chilled by the loss of her warmth, and settled her onto the mattress, tucking the comforter around her.

  Scooping up his clothing he’d quietly left the apartment.

  He had shaved, dressed, then went straight to his office, where he had been ever since. He hadn’t eaten. His stomach was empty. He needed a gallon of coffee. He waited.

  It was while he waited, aroused and ready, wanting her so bad it hurt, that memory stirred.

  He had not protected her. Damn…and he had had a package in his pocket, just in case he got lucky. And he had gotten very, very lucky. She was magnificent…and he hadn’t protected her.

  Marsh was unconcerned for himself. Truth to tell, he would love to have a child with her. But he hadn’t deliberately left the condom in his pocket, not even subconsciously. He had too much pride to stoop to impregnating a woman in an attempt to bind her to him.

  If it happened again—and he sure as hell hoped it did—he’d be sure to use protection.

  Marsh didn’t hear a sound, but he caught the scent of Jen when she reached the bottom of the stairs and headed for the kitchen. Exhaling a soft sigh of relief, he pushed himself out of the chair and followed her. Jennifer and coffee…what more could any man want?

  * * *

  “Coffee ready?”

  Startled, Jen flipped the coffee scoop, sending the grounds flying to the floor.

  “Good grief, Marsh!” she cried out, spinning around to glare at him, gasping for breath. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “I’m sorry.” His lips twitched, making a lie of his apology. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

  “You’re damned right you will.” She slammed her hands to her waist. “Meanwhile, can you be quiet long enough for me to make the coffee?”

  “My lips are sealed,” he said, turning away but not quickly enough to hide his smile from her.

  Jen refilled the basket with fresh grounds and poured water into the pot. “Okay, the coffee will be ready in a few minutes.” She turned back to him, raising her voice over the sound of the vacuum he was using to clean up the grounds. “Have you eaten?”

  “No,” he answered, shaking his head. “And I’m starving.”

  “Right,” she drawled. “But then, when aren’t you?”

  Flipping the switch on the vacuum, he flashed a grin at her that caused a hitch in her breathing and a warm, exciting sensation in every cell and nerve in her body. “I can’t deny it, I do love to eat.”

  “So do I,” Jen admitted, proud of the steadiness of her voice when she was feeling overwhelmed with desire for Marsh—again. How much of this could she take? “So, what are you hungry for?”

  Marsh ran a slow glance over her body. “Do you want the polite answer or the truth?” His voice was low, sensuous, suggestive.

  “The polite answer,” she quickly replied, fighting an urge to ask for the truth.

  Marsh grinned. “Okay, then I’d like toast and a ham, cheese and tomato omelet, if you have the ingredients.”

  “I do.” Telling herself to grow up and calm down, Jen headed for the fridge. “You can pour the coffee. I’m dying for a cup.”

  “Can’t have that,” he said, sounding amused. Opening the door on a cabinet he removed two large mugs and poured the coffee before the water had completely run through.

  Ten minutes later they sat down to eat. Fifteen minutes after that they were both finished, not a crumb on their plates. Collecting the dishes, Jen stashed them in the dishwasher. She felt wonderfully full and nervous as hell. She had calmed down somewhat as she cooked and ate, but sitting back down at the table across from Marsh with nothing to occupy herself with but the coffee mug, the queasiness in her stomach started up all over again.

  “So, what do you want to do today?”

  The sensitized area between her thighs kept Jen from admitting to her desire to crawl back into bed with him and spend the rest of the day there. Instead, she said, “I’m going to finish the wash I started yesterday and then—”

  “Don’t even think about cleaning the house.” Marsh cut her off in a warning tone.

  Jen leveled a look at him. “If I had planned to clean the house, Mr. Grainger, I would clean the house,” she retorted succinctly. “That’s what I get paid to do.”

  “But I’m the boss, Ms. Dunning, and—”

  “After the laundry,” Jen said, figuring it was her turn to cut him off, “I’m going to curl up with the romance novel I started the night before last.” Jen drew herself up, raised her chin and challenged his authority. “You got a problem with that?”

  Marsh shrugged. “No,” he said, his tone unconcerned. “It is your day off.”

  “Damn straight.” She walked out of the kitchen and into the laundry room. The sound of his chuckle stalked her across the room, causing a hot shiver up her back to the nape of her neck.

  “I’ll be in my office,” he said, then paused, his voice lowering to a sensual growl. “If you should need me for anything.”

  Oh, that’s so not fair, Jen thought, digging out damp clothing and transferring it into the dryer.

  Need him for anything? Jen’s body began to heat up in very tender spots. Hell, she needed him for everything.

  The very thought brought her to an absolute standstill. What on earth was she thinking? She didn’t need anyone, least of all a man who was notorious for his disdain for women.

  But Marsh really didn’t seem like a man who disdained women. Did he? Or had he just worked his magic on her so completely that she couldn’t tell what was real anymore?

  Get a grip, she told herself.

  Oh, sure, she had enjoyed her romp in bed with him—more than enjoyed it. She had reveled in it. It had been great sex. Well, she assumed it was great because it made her feel great. But that was no reason to lose her sense of reality.

  Oh, hell, maybe it was time to take a hike, look for another job, maybe in another state, or even country, because she feared she was way out of her depth with Marshall Grainger.

  But…she didn’t want to leave. She loved her job. She loved—

  No! Her stomach muscles twisted. It felt as if all her muscles twisted. Jen took off at a near run for her apartment.

  “Jen?”

  She stopped short on the fourth step, her breath catching in her throat at his soft call. “Yes?”

  “Is something wrong?” He sounded concerned.

  She half turned to look at him, immediately sorry she did so. He stood in the doorway to his office looking so blasted sexy. Somehow, Jen managed a reassuring smile.

  “No, what could be wrong?” she asked, thinking, Everything—everything could be wrong.

  He frowned. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  How was it that even frowning he looked good enough to eat? She shook her head, trying to shake loose both the highly sexual image that flashed into her mind and the errant thought that went with it.

  She inched backward and up one step. “I’m going to get my book. I decided to sit and read in the kitchen while waiting for the laundry to finish.” Liar, liar, pants on fire, the tiny voice chided inside her head.

  He smiled. She melted inside.

  “The romance novel, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it good…the romance story?”

  Jen grew stiff. Was there a note of mockery hidden inside his even tone?

  “Yes, it is.” She slid honey into her voice. “I wouldn’t be reading it if it weren’t.” She raised one eyebrow. “What genre do you read?”

  “I don’t read fiction,” he answered.
>
  “Too bad, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “I’m a busy man, Jennifer. I have enough to read with business papers and periodicals.”

  “And what do you do to relax?” she asked, annoyed by his condescension.

  This time his smile was slow, sexy, his eyes revealing his thoughts. “I was completely relaxed with you last night.”

  Jen froze, while the flame roared to life deep inside her. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond to him. She certainly wasn’t about to admit to the shimmering satisfaction he had given her. The last thing he needed was a booster shot to his ego.

  He simply stood there, leaning against the door frame, his hands in his jeans pockets, his eyes hooded, his smile cool, for all appearances totally at ease.

  Yeah, thought Jen, like a tiger crouched and ready to spring. Slowly, she backed up another step.

  “I think we should get married.” His remark startled Jen, even as something sprang to life inside her. She shouldn’t have been surprised, of course—a part of her had known this was coming.

  For a long moment the silence was complete. Then Jennifer erupted.

  “You can’t be serious, Marsh!”

  “I am. You know I am.”

  Damn him. How could he be so calm when she felt about ready to fly into pieces? She stood there, shocked speechless, afraid that if she opened her mouth she’d admit the idea of spending every day and night with him for the rest of her life was very tempting.

  Lazily, he straightened, moving away from the door, taking a step toward her.

  Jen backed up another step.

  He kept moving. “Getting married is the perfect solution.”

  “To what problem?” she asked, taking another step back, grasping the banister when she nearly stumbled.

  She never saw him move but suddenly he was there, steadying her by drawing her into the safety of his arms.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She gulped air into her body. “I’m fine. You can let me go now.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Marsh, please.” Jen drew another quick breath, which didn’t help a bit in slowing her rapid heartbeat. “I need some time, some thinking space. We barely know each other, and certainly not well enough to get married.”