“That works,” Samara replied sleepily, “Because I’m going to need about ten or twelve hours to get my second wind.”
Marcus sat down on the edge of the bed near her. Lovingly, he caressed her smooth bare shoulder. “I know we’ve been otherwise…occupied, but have you given any thought to possible wedding dates?”
That instantly rejuvenated her. She pulled herself up to a sitting position and looked at him. Her voice was soft with surprised wonder. “You mean you’re ready to discuss details?” So he was serious about this.
“Of course.” Marcus traced the soft shell of her ear with a lazy finger. “Don’t tell me. You’re surprised because you assumed most men leave all the planning to their fiancées and just show up on the appointed day.”
Samara grinned sheepishly. “Well…”
“I’m not most men, Samara.” He smiled at her to soften the mild censure in his tone. “I was actually thinking about an early September wedding.”
“This September? But it’s already April.”
Marcus was nonplussed. “Does it take longer than six months to plan a wedding?”
“It depends on how elaborate the ceremony will be. You have to take so many things into consideration, like reserving a place for the reception, securing a caterer, ordering invitations and flowers.” She ticked off the items on her fingers while Marcus tried not to reel from information overload. “And then there’s my wedding gown, which I suppose could be bought off the rack for the sake of time—”
Marcus shook his head. “No. I want something special made just for you. A wedding gown you would cherish for years to come, maybe pass along to our daughter someday.”
“Oh, Marcus.” Samara was deeply touched by the sentimentality of his words. She reached out, laying a gentle hand across his cheek. She suddenly felt foolish for running off at the mouth like that. She’d never imagined she would become one of those obsessed bridezillas whose constant companion was a monstrously thick binder filled with wedding details from A-Z.
Come to think of it, she’d never imagined getting married. Period.
“None of that other stuff matters,” she said softly to Marcus. “As long as we’re together, I don’t care what I wear. I would marry you in a burlap sack if you didn’t object.”
He chuckled softly. “Sweetheart, I would still think you were the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen.” He leaned close and kissed her gently on the lips. “I love you.”
“And that’s enough for me,” Samara whispered against his warm mouth. She draped her arms around his neck, and they shared a long, deep kiss.
When they drew apart, Samara wore a shy smile. “I have thought of the perfect place to hold the wedding though. It actually occurred to me while we were there—not that I was expecting us to get married at the time or anything,” she hastened to add.
Marcus smiled softly. “I know what you meant. Now where’s this perfect place?”
“The garden at your father’s home in Stone Mountain. It’s breathtaking.”
“You’re right, it is.” His smile deepened. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, baby girl.”
“You do?” She threw her arms around his neck excitedly. “It’s going to be beautiful, Marcus! Just wait and see.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Marcus?”
“Hmm?”
She pulled back, her eyes twinkling with sudden mischief. “Let’s play hooky today. The weather’s supposed to be gorgeous. We could go down to the Tidal Basin to see the cherry blossoms before they’re gone. Then we can act like tourists and do a little sightseeing around D.C., maybe have lunch on a ferry.”
“Sounds good, but…”
“I finished all of my important meetings yesterday. What about you?”
“I don’t have any meetings today. But I do have a few conference calls scheduled.”
“Okay…maybe next time.” Samara tried not to sound too disappointed. She understood how incredibly busy he was, especially since he was trying to get his new office established. She didn’t want to interfere with his work.
“One of those conference calls could be postponed until next week,” Marcus said slowly, thinking aloud, “And my senior associates can handle the other two for me. I just need to call and bring them up to speed.”
“Only if you’re absolutely sure it won’t be a problem.”
“It’s no problem.” His gaze softened on her face. “I’d be a fool to pass up on the opportunity to spend an entire day with my brideto-be.”
She warmed with pleasure. “We’ll have a great time, I promise.”
Marcus used the phone on the side table to call the office. Samara stared at his handsome profile as he gave instructions to his secretary.
While he spoke on the phone, he never stopped touching Samara. He stroked her hair and ran his finger down her arm. Without missing a beat, he reached beneath the towel and found her breast. Samara gasped as he cupped her breast in his warm palm before brushing the pad of his thumb across the nipple, making it tighten in response. Marcus met her aroused look with a slow, knowing grin.
Two can play that game, thought Samara. She shifted her body away from his marauding caresses and knelt on the bed beside him. As he watched her, she leaned close, lightly nipping his earlobe with her teeth. A faint shudder passed through him. Emboldened, Samara opened her mouth and flicked her tongue against his ear. She heard his breath escape on a soft hiss. But he continued speaking calmly with his secretary.
Slowly, seductively, Samara danced her fingertips across his collarbone. She ran her hand down the broad expanse of his chest, caressing hard, muscled flesh before trailing lower. Marcus’s breathing quickened as she spread her hand across his taut abdomen and traced a rhythmic circular pattern. She slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his towel and roamed until she found just what she was looking for. Marcus’s erection strained against the cotton. She wrapped one hand around the hard, throbbing length and gently squeezed.
Bingo.
Marcus made a strangled noise, half grunt and half groan. On the other end of the phone, his concerned secretary must have asked him what was wrong.
“Nothing, Barbara,” he mumbled hoarsely. “I-I’m fine, don’t worry.”
Grinning now, Samara nibbled on his earlobe while stroking the granite-smooth hardness in her hand. Marcus’s breathing grew ragged.
“Listen, Barbara, I need to go. Just have Donovan, Timothy or Helen give me a call when they get in the office. Thanks.” He hung up and turned to Samara. His dark eyes smoldered dangerously. “You must be trying to bankrupt me, woman.”
“What do you mean?”
Marcus reached for her towel. “Because if this is what I have to look forward to every morning, I’ll never go to work.”
Taming the WolfSamara’s laughter was short-lived as Marcus stripped the towel from her body and tossed it aside before discarding his own. Pushing her back onto the mattress, he covered her naked body with his. The exhaustion she’d felt only minutes before evaporated. She tugged his head down to hers for a greedy kiss. Marcus captured her wild cry in his mouth as he thrust deep inside her.
Chapter Fourteen
W
hat do you think of this one?” Melissa lifted her head from the clothing rack she’d been sifting through. Samara held up a maternity dress in a soft shade of green for her to examine.
“Nice,” Melissa murmured, reaching for the dress. “Very nice.” The two women had taken an extended lunch break that Monday afternoon and headed to Pentagon City Shopping Mall in northern Virginia. Just eight weeks pregnant, Melissa was already complaining that her clothes didn’t fit anymore.
Melissa added the green summer dress to the growing pile on her arm and sighed. “I’m going to have to put something back on the rack. I promised Gary I wouldn’t go on a mad shopping spree today, but I can’t seem to help myself. Everything is just too cute for words.”
“Except for that floral-print number on the
rack over there. The one that looked like a housecoat.”
Melissa made a face. “And let’s not forget that tacky skirt and halter set that’s designed for the stomach to protrude. I’m sorry, but I just don’t see anything attractive about pregnant women waddling around in public with their bellies hanging out—I don’t care what Marie Claire says.”
Samara laughed. “I agree, but then I’ve never been one to follow fashion trends anyway.”
“Your mother should seriously consider designing maternity wear. If anyone can make pregnant women look sexy, Asha Dubois can.”
176
“I’ll pass along the suggestion,” Samara said dryly. “Just as soon as the two of you discuss how she’s going to design your wedding gown. I know it’s going to be spectacular.”
Samara fell silent.
Melissa stared at her. “Don’t tell me. You’re not going to ask her, are you?”
“Melissa, I haven’t even told my mother about Marcus, let alone that I’m engaged.”
“When do you plan to tell her?”
Samara shrugged, sifting through more maternity outfits. “I don’t know. It’s not like my mother and I are close, the way you and yours are. I’m not even sure how Asha would react to the news. Definitely not the way Marcus’s father reacted when we called him on Sunday. He was genuinely thrilled for us. And so were you. But my mother…that’s an entirely different story.”
“Samara,” Melissa said quietly, “Despite the strain between you and your mother, I honestly believe she cares about you and wants to see you happy.”
“I wish I shared that belief, Melissa, but I just can’t. And the last thing I want is to call her with my wonderful news and hear a bitter lecture about how men are not to be trusted. I’ve been listening to that lecture my entire life. Nothing’s changed.”
“You never know. She might surprise you with tears of joy.”
“Highly unlikely.” Not for the first time, Samara found herself lamenting the state of affairs between her and her mother. Of course she wanted nothing more than to pick up the phone and relay the news of her engagement to Asha like a giddy bride-to-be. But she had to face reality, and reality reminded her that their relationship was not one that invited shared confidences and “girl talk.”
Wanting to erase the mournful expression on Samara’s face, Melissa grabbed her arm and started for the nearest checkout counter. “Come on, girl. Let’s go have lunch. All this shopping has worn me and Junior out.”
“Junior?”
“Gary and I are hoping for a boy first. We figure if we refer to the baby as ‘Junior’ often enough, we just might get our wish. Don’t look at me like that. It’s no crazier than what the women of old used to do to determine the unborn child’s sex. You should hear some of my mother’s stories.”
Samara chuckled dryly. “Don’t worry, I seem to recall some of my grandmother’s wild anecdotes. And you’re right, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with calling your baby Junior. I’ll even hop on the bandwagon if it helps any.”
Melissa grinned. “I knew you’d make the perfect godmother.” As she dumped all the outfits onto the countertop, it was obvious she’d decided not to part with a single item. Samara smiled inwardly. Pending motherhood was already changing Melissa’s frugal ways.
“Let me pay for a couple of those,” Samara offered. “That way you can keep your word to Gary about not overspending.”
Melissa waved her off with a grin. “Just buy lunch and we’ll call it even.”
As they left Macy’s a few minutes later, Melissa said, “By the way, is there any chance that you and Marcus might consider pushing up the wedding date?”
“Why?”
“By the time September arrives, your matron of honor might need to be rolled up the aisle in order to fulfill her duties.”
Samara laughed and curved an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “I’ll run the idea past Marcus.”
1
Late that afternoon, Marcus had just gotten off the phone with his father when his receptionist buzzed his extension. “Mr. Wolf, Antoinette Toussaint is here to see you.”
Marcus frowned in puzzlement. What was Antoinette Toussaint doing at his office? He’d had a meeting with her father earlier that day. Maybe William Toussaint had forgotten something and sent his daughter to retrieve it.
“Please send her in, Laura. Thanks.” Marcus saved the file he’d been working on before his father called and exited the program. He stood just as Antoinette appeared in the doorway.
“Ms. Toussaint,” he greeted her. “Please come in.” Antoinette Toussaint didn’t merely enter the room. She glided into the office with a seductive feline grace that reminded Marcus of an animal intent on cornering its prey. It seemed appropriate that she wore a skintight black leather body suit that molded her voluptuous curves like a second skin. A dangerous-looking pair of stiletto heels completed the femme fatale look and accentuated her statuesque build. Her lustrous ebony mane was swept back from her dark face and tumbled past her shoulders. Marcus would have to be dumb and blind not to notice what a strikingly beautiful woman she was, or the way she oozed sexuality seemed as natural to her as breathing.
Her sultry amber eyes were fixed on his face as she approached his desk. “Hello, Marcus,” she said in a low, throaty voice. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Marcus inclined his head in a slight nod. “That’s quite an outfit you’re wearing.”
She glanced down at herself and laughed huskily. “I just came from a photo shoot across town. I had nearly forgotten I was still in costume. No wonder I received so many interested looks on the way over here!”
Likely story. “What can I do for you this evening, Ms. Toussaint?”
She waved a hand tipped with red talons. “Oh, please. Call me Antoinette. Ms. Toussaint is my mother.”
“All right, then. What brings you here, Antoinette?”
“Actually, I was hoping to catch my father before he left. But when I got here, your receptionist informed me that my father’s appointment was this morning.” She gave an elegant shrug. “I must have gotten my times mixed up.”
“It happens,” Marcus murmured. He didn’t buy her explanation for one second.
“Since I was already here, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to say hello. This is quite an impressive office you have, Marcus.” Antoinette turned and walked over to a mahogany-paneled wall of books. Marcus knew the maneuver was meant to give him an unobstructed view of her tight, shapely ass.
He lowered himself slowly into his chair. He knew without a doubt that if he’d met Antoinette a month ago, they would already be lovers. And when the affair was over, they would’ve gone their separate ways. No hard feelings, no empty promises. No mess.
But he hadn’t met Antoinette a month ago. He’d met Samara first, and she had ruined him for all other women.
Marcus paused, momentarily startled by the realization that his bachelor days were behind him. He would never make love to another woman again. His wife would be his only lover for as long as they both lived.
Antoinette turned at that moment and sashayed toward him. “My father thinks the world of you, Marcus. You should hear the way he brags about you to all his friends and colleagues. One would think you were his own son.”
Marcus propped his elbows on the desk and steeple his fingers. “Your father is a generous man.”
“He is,” she purred. “But I certainly don’t think his glowing accolades are unwarranted. You are a remarkable man, Marcus Wolf.” She came around the desk and stopped mere inches from his chair. He watched in bemused silence as she rested a curvaceous hip against the desk. “Do you find me attractive, Marcus?”
His mouth twitched humorously. “That’s a ridiculous question if I ever heard one. But whether or not I find you attractive is arguable.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I don’t intend to do anything about it.”
“Even if I give you permission
?”
Marcus chuckled softly. “Believe me, Antoinette,” he drawled as he rose to his feet, “If I wanted to initiate something between us, I wouldn’t need your permission.”
Antoinette’s amber eyes flickered with excitement. She slid onto the desk and crossed her long legs. “You’re right. I doubt any woman in her right mind would ever resist you, Marcus.”
Before he could respond, Antoinette tugged on his loosened tie and pulled him toward her. Caught off guard, Marcus braced his palms on either side of her to steady himself. He had only a fleeting glimpse of the wicked satisfaction in her eyes before her hand grasped the back of his head and drew his mouth down to hers.
1
Samara was on her way home that evening when she remembered she still had Marcus’s laptop. She’d borrowed it over the weekend to get some work done while her own laptop was on loan to Brianna Lynch.
Samara glanced at the clock on her dashboard. It was five-thirty. She knew Marcus was still at the office; he’d told her earlier he planned to stay late to catch up on some paperwork. If he decided to take the work home instead, she didn’t want him to be without his laptop. She already felt guilty for monopolizing so much of his time. After playing hooky on Thursday, they’d spent the entire weekend together, alternately making love and watching old Blaxploitation flicks. The only time they’d ventured outdoors was to have lunch at a popular Foggy Bottom restaurant and visit a few jewelers.
As much as Samara enjoyed spending time with Marcus, she didn’t want to become dependent on his presence. She had to keep reminding herself that they were both busy professionals with many responsibilities. She didn’t want FYI to suffer any more than she wanted his practice to suffer.
“I don’t have to guess what you were up to on Thursday,” Melissa had teased her when Samara arrived at the office that morning. “I know exactly what ‘personal time off’ means when there’s a gorgeous man in the picture.”
Melissa had applauded Samara for putting pleasure before business, for once in her life. Samara didn’t plan to make it a habit.
Taming the Wolf Page 18