Her Convenient Millionaire

by Gail Dayton

  She wet a cloth in the sink and dabbed it over his bruises. The cool water felt good. “What happened?”

  “Stupidity.” He tried to use his disgust at his own actions to wall off the feelings rising inside him. It didn’t work.

  Sherry stood far too close to him in her shiny stockings and her shimmery party dress; her head bent over his, trying to clean up the results of his own foolishness. And he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to haul her onto his lap and kiss her. Her tender concern made his own tenderness well up, strong and uncrushable. It was why this whole mess had happened in the first place. He couldn’t stop the feelings, no matter how hard he tried. They kept coming back.

  When Sherry’s father had said those rude things at the party, absolute fury had swept through Mike so fast, it was all he could do to control it. He never would have been so angry, had he not felt more for Sherry than he should. He’d spouted off, which made things worse. He hadn’t thrown any punches, but if he’d kept his cool, most likely nothing would have happened.

  He couldn’t deny it anymore. He had feelings for her. Feelings that grew stronger with every little hiss that escaped her as she tried to bathe his wounds without hurting him. The bruises didn’t hurt nearly as much as he would when all this was over, especially if he didn’t get control of himself now. He wasn’t in love with her, not yet. But all the pieces were there—the tenderness, the protectiveness, the desire.

  Mike leaned forward just enough to breathe in her scent. He had to get away, had to get her safely home, had to get some distance from her unknowing temptation, or he would break something else—his promise to himself. His heart.

  Sherry tossed the cloth in the sink. “You’re lucky,” she said. “I don’t see any skin broken. Not even a busted lip.”

  “He missed my mouth.” A bit of fortune for which Mike was becoming more grateful by the minute.

  “What happened? Why did he hit you?”

  “I wouldn’t divorce you.”

  “Oh.” She looked away, fidgeting with a fold of her dress. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why? It’s not your fault your father’s pond scum.”

  She gave a little forlorn one-shoulder shrug. “It’s my fault you have to deal with him.”

  “I don’t mind.” Mike could resist no longer. He needed her in his arms, needed it like he needed air. He tugged her off balance, into his lap. “I don’t mind at all,” he said as he touched his mouth to hers.

  The kiss was pure sweetness and heartache, and Mike couldn’t make himself change its tone. He felt what he felt, and it all came out in the kiss—sweet, hot and pure.

  Her hand settled on his cheek, a drift of warm comfort. She sighed, relaxing into his embrace, sending Mike high and tight with this evidence of her trust. He wanted—needed more. Anything she would give him.

  So what if it broke every policy he’d ever laid out for himself? He didn’t care anymore how stupid it was to get any deeper involved with her. He didn’t care that she’d grown up in Palm Beach. At this moment all he cared about was that Sherry was his wife and she was in his arms.

  Mike slid his hand down her waist, past the curve of her hip, until he reached the hem of her dress. There he waited, his hand on her nylons-covered thigh, for a sign from Sherry. Would she object?

  Her breathy moan didn’t sound like an objection. Nor did her gasp when he brushed his thumb under the edge of her skirt. She deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue into his mouth. Her hand slid from his cheek down inside his jacket, where she pressed it to his chest.

  He leaned back, and the plumbing fixtures digging into his spine reminded him where they were. In a bathroom. He lurched to his feet, setting Sherry down on hers as he did, because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t drop her. He didn’t let go, though, as he staggered toward the doorway.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung like a limpet. She kissed his throat, his chin, his cheek, and Mike had to stop his unsteady progress to kiss her mouth again, drawing her up tight against his body. One hand found her bottom, cupped its firm curves, used it to hold her where he needed her. But he never forgot his goal. He wanted out of the bathroom.

  Sherry panicked when Mike started moving once more. It didn’t matter that he kept his arms around her, walked her with him. He’d done that before and still walked away. She couldn’t take it happening again.

  “Mike. Wait.” She punctuated her words with kisses.

  He groaned and propped his forehead on hers. “What?” He brushed her hair aside with his nose and nibbled at her earlobe, almost driving all thought from her mind.

  “What’s wrong?” she gasped.

  “Nothing.” His nibbling moved down her neck, and Sherry dropped her head back to give him better access. His lips plucked lightly at her skin, leaving behind a moist trail that made her shiver.

  “Then, where—” She forgot the rest of what she wanted to say when he pushed a knee between hers and suckled lightly at a spot just beneath her jaw. Her skirt was too straight to let him put the pressure of his knee where she wanted it, unless she hiked it up. Did she dare?

  “We’re in the bathroom.” He rushed the words out and returned to his nibbling.

  “So?” She couldn’t manage more.

  Mike slipped his hand from her bottom to her thigh and began inching her skirt up for her. “So I refuse to make love to my wife for the first time in a bathroom.”

  Oh, dear heaven. Jolted by his words, Sherry shoved his jacket halfway down his back, reveling in the feel of his powerful shoulders beneath smooth silk. She buzzed with the need to touch. He was so broad, so strong, so much more than anything she’d ever known.

  “That is…” He paused. “If you want—”

  “There’s a bed.” She didn’t care if it made her sound needy. She was needy. Well beyond the point where pride could have any effect.

  “Thank God.” Mike lifted her in his arms. Not sweeping her off her feet like Rhett carrying Scarlett up the stairs, but straight up in the air, body to body, heat to heat. Sherry wrapped her legs around him, hiking her skirt up the rest of the way. Mike kissed her, his tongue plunging deep, making promises she hoped he would finally keep.

  “Where?” he gasped.

  “Turn right.” Her voice didn’t sound any clearer than his. “You can’t miss it.”

  He went through the doorway and turned right. Two quick strides later he bumped the bed and fell on to it with her. They kissed, necks straining, lips reaching, unable to break apart, as they scrambled to rid themselves of clothing, hands jumping from one to the other.

  He tugged his tie loose, while she unbuttoned his shirt, stopping after only three buttons when he broke the kiss long enough to whip the tie over his head. He lowered the zipper on the back of her dress, while she yanked his tuxedo jacket inside out, trying to pull it off his arms, unable to see because her mouth was so deeply involved with his.

  Her dress came off in one violent struggle, and they came together again, clinging as if they’d been parted for years rather than seconds. She wriggled her panty hose halfway down, then finished undoing his shirt buttons, his belt buckle and his slacks as he peeled her stockings the rest of the way off.

  Then, finally, Sherry glued her naked body to Mike’s. The touch of his skin against hers made her quiver with anticipation. His erection trapped between them told her she wouldn’t have long to wait. But it told her wrong.

  All of Mike’s desperate haste vanished. His kiss somehow softened and deepened at the same time, becoming both passionate and tender. He cupped her face in both his hands as he kissed her. Then he lifted his head and looked at her, gazing into her eyes a long moment before turning to watch as his hand skimmed down her neck, out her shoulder and back to cover her breast. He followed the path of his touch with his eyes.

  Sherry felt no urge to cover herself, though she felt exposed and vulnerable under Mike’s gaze. He made her feel sexy, wanton, beautiful, safe. He had promised. She was safe with h
im.

  Micah lowered his head, touched his lips to her neck, and Sherry quivered. He kissed his way down to her shoulder, his fingers skimming over her skin just ahead of his kisses. She squirmed, her breasts tingling. She needed him to touch her there, but he wouldn’t. Slowly, inch by inch, he moved across her shoulders, nipping at her collarbone, dropping a damp, tender kiss in the hollow of her throat and another in the dip above the slender bone on the other side.

  Only then did he move lower, kissing his way across the upper slopes of her breasts and into the valley between. Sherry arched her back, begging silently for more. Her nipples had tightened into hard little buds in anticipation of Mike’s slow sensual journey, and still he passed them by, lavishing his kisses everywhere else. He followed the path set by his hands, around her breasts, across her stomach, along the sensitive inner surface of her upper arms. Every touch, every kiss tantalized her, brought her nerves to quivering life and left her hungry for more.

  When his palm brushed over the peak of her breast, she jerked convulsively, galvanized by the electricity of his touch. Or perhaps it was her own need for his touch that made her jump. She’d never felt this much. She didn’t know what to do with all the feelings he created inside her. There wasn’t room in her body to hold it all in. There wasn’t room in her heart for everything Micah Scott made her feel.

  His mouth closed hot and wet over her breast and she cried out, muffling the sound with her hand. The tip of his tongue teased the tip of her breast, flicking back and forth. It sent sparks shooting to the hollow inside her that wept to be filled. She spread her legs, pushed her knee between his, trying without words to tell him what she wanted. Micah’s only response was to turn the same careful attention to her other breast.

  She would go crazy. She wasn’t made to endure so much sheer delight. Sherry thrust her fingers into his hair, not sure whether she meant to push him away or hold him in place. It didn’t seem to matter. Mike kissed wherever he wanted.

  He turned her onto her stomach to press kisses to the tender backs of her knees. It tickled in a way that sent more sparks to arouse her further.

  “It’s too much,” she whispered, unable to bear any more.

  “There’s no such thing.” His fingers traced lines of fire up her thighs. “It’s not enough.”

  His lips followed where his fingers led, sometimes kissing, sometimes just sliding enticingly along her skin. Now and again his tongue would lick out as if to taste a particularly tempting spot on her body. Sherry trembled in anticipation, waiting for his next little erotic taste.

  He kissed her thighs and her calves, her back and the arches of her feet. He kissed her bottom, his breath sliding warm down her curves to make her tremble even more. It was as if he intended to memorize every part of her. Why? It made no sense, unless he intended this to be their only time together.

  She couldn’t bear it. She needed him now. Sherry rolled to her back. “Make love to me, Micah.” She tried to pull him up over her, but he refused to budge.

  “I am.” His fingers combed through the fine blond hair between her legs to find her warm wet secrets. “I will. I promise.”

  Surely he wouldn’t continue his pattern now, his hand leading where his mouth would follow. But he did. Sherry came up off the bed at the electrifying slide of his tongue across her sensitized bud. What was he doing to her?

  The world slid away, her body tensed, poised on the edge of some unimaginable cliff. The second touch sent her flying, exploding into a million scattering sparks. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more, needed him inside her, and he gave her what she needed in one deep thrust.

  He rose over her, elbows straight. She set her hands on his chest simply to touch him in return. Her eyes drifted shut as he began a driving rhythm, pushing her toward that spectacular short circuit once more.

  She tossed her head, trying to hold back. She couldn’t take it, not again. She knew this time would be magnified far beyond the first, just seconds ago.

  He caught her hips and lifted them higher. “Feel it, Sherry. Let go. Fly with me.”

  “I can’t.” She was almost sobbing as the sensations built. It was too much.

  “You can. Trust me.” He sounded much like she did, his voice broken with effort and…and something else. Something more. “I’ll be here. Catch you when you come down. Promise.”

  “Micah, please—” She begged for mercy, but he had none.

  “Let go.”

  “I can’t,” she cried at the moment the explosion overtook her. Time stood still, shattered around her, as her body convulsed with pleasure.

  His cry echoed hers. Did he say her name? She didn’t know, couldn’t tell. He’d overwhelmed all her senses so nothing got through but what he made her feel. She still trembled in its aftermath when Mike curled down over her, holding his weight up on shaky elbows for a few moments before rolling to the side, taking her with him.

  She wanted to put her arms around him, but hadn’t the strength. What had he done to her?

  He stroked his cheek along hers, then kissed her just in front of her ear, and her tears came back.

  Now still, even after it was over, he was so sweet. Because making love was more than just “the act,” exactly as he’d told her. It began long before and, apparently, lingered afterward. And Mike’s devotion to her pleasure showed her something. Sherry knew he didn’t love her, but he cared. More than anyone had ever cared about her before.

  He had fed her a seven-course meal of caring, and all she was used to getting was the odd cup of gruel now and again. No wonder it had seemed too much. He had filled her to overflowing. And now her tears overflowed, despite her efforts to hold back.

  “Sherry? What’s wrong?” Mike sounded on the verge of panic.

  She couldn’t speak, could only twine her arms around his neck, hide her face against his shoulder and cry.

  “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?” He alternated between trying to see her face and holding her close.

  Sherry nodded her head, then shook it. Yes to the first question. No to the second. Maybe she should have just said no. No, she wasn’t all right. Then again, maybe she had never been all right before; but now, for once, she was.

  “Talk to me, Sherry.” He smoothed her hair back from her forehead and twisted around until he could kiss her there. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing,” she whispered. “Everything is right.”

  She could feel him shake his head. Undoubtedly he didn’t understand. Sherry didn’t exactly understand herself. But he tucked her head against his shoulder and cradled her there while she cried. He stroked her hair, pressing the occasional kiss to the top of her head or to her arm wrapped around his neck, and he waited.

  At last, her tears began to subside. Sherry lay boneless in Mike’s arms, her legs twined with his, and listened to the music seeping in through the closed windows.

  “Feel better?” His fingers combing through her hair felt heavenly.

  “Mmm.” She wiped her eyes on his bare chest and looked up at him. “I hate to cry.”

  “What brought all that on?” He stroked his thumb beneath each of her eyes in turn, removing the last trace of dampness. “Me?”

  “Sort of.”

  The dismay in his face made her heart turn over again.

  “No.” She took his face between her hands and kissed him, just a little tender kiss. She kissed his eyes and his cheeks. “You were wonderful. Better than perfect. That’s why.”

  He still didn’t look as if he believed her. She would have to explain. She couldn’t bear for him to be hurt, even a tiny bit.

  “Do you know where my name came from? Sherry?” She smoothed down his rumpled up eyebrows. “Not exactly the usual run-of-the-mill name here in Palm Beach is it?”

  He shrugged.

  Sherry took a deep breath. She had to get it all out at once or she never would. “Actually I’m lucky that sherry was considered an acceptable drink for young ladies when my mom
was growing up. At least it sounds like a normal, ordinary name. I might have wound up named ‘Whiskey’ or ‘Vodka’, or maybe ‘Tequila.’ But my mom didn’t discover those till I was older. She cared more about her ‘drinkies’ than she did about me. She fell off a boat at anchor in the harbor and drowned because she was drunk. Then I came to live with Tug and Bebe. I guess you have a pretty good idea what that was like.”

  He didn’t say anything, just stroked his thumb under her eyes.

  “Don’t you understand?” she whispered. “You cared. You saw me. Just me. Nobody else ever did that.”

  Mike drew her in. He was in deep, deep water here, with the wind rising. He kissed her forehead before he tucked her close again and held her. He’d known all along that if he ever made love to her it would change everything. Her whispered confession only intensified the change. How could he let her go?

  And yet he knew he had to do it in the end. She might have recognized that he cared about her, but she had said nothing about caring for him in return. Tonight had crumbled his defensive walls, and somehow he had to build them up again so that when the time came, he could say goodbye with a little dignity.

  But what if he didn’t have to? What if she decided to stay? If she fell in love with him—

  No. He couldn’t delude himself. Blair had loved him. She’d said so, anyway. But she’d loved his money more. And when she found a guy with even more money than he had, she was gone.

  Sherry was different. He knew that. But he didn’t dare take the chance that she was different enough. Much as it had hurt when he discovered the truth about Blair, he knew already that Sherry could hurt him even more. He had to be prepared, had to be ready to open his arms and let her walk away.

  “They’ll be wondering where we are.” Sherry spoke against his chest. It tickled a little.

  He rubbed the spot. “Probably so.”

  “We should get dressed. Go back to the party.”

  He didn’t want to. If he stayed here, holding her naked in his arms, the end might not come. “You’re right.”

  Reluctantly, slowly, hands lingering as they drew apart, Mike got out of bed. He explored the open room in the light spilling through the bathroom doorway, hunting their wide-flung clothes. He put his on, tossed Sherry’s in her direction. He found the discarded protection and disposed of it in the bathroom trash.