by Noelle Adams
“Fine.” He could feel her moving beside him, and he tried desperately not to think about how her soft body would feel against his.
“Is everything all right?”
It was a familiar question. She asked it of him a lot, usually in response to something going wrong in the lab. Very often, she would have a solution.
She could offer him a solution to his current predicament, but it wasn’t one he would ever accept.
He couldn’t have sex with her, no matter how much he temporarily wanted to. Their work was too important, and he didn’t want to think about trying to do that work without her, which was what would happen if they indulged in an affair.
“Jonathan?” she prompted. She was looking at him—he could feel it—and he realized he hadn’t answered her question.
“Everything’s fine.”
She didn’t say anything immediately, but she was still watching him. He wished she wouldn’t. It was giving him very wrong thoughts.
“Are you annoyed with me?” she asked at last, as if she’d just figured it out.
He swallowed. He’d been annoyed earlier, but he’d known even then it was irrational. She hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t her fault she looked so luscious all of a sudden and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“Jonathan?” she prompted, making him realize yet again he hadn’t answered her. “Are you annoyed?”
“No. Of course, not.” He tempered his tone, so as not to convey his impatience over her pursuing the questioning when he obviously wanted to be left alone.
“You are annoyed,” she said, as if it was resolved now in her mind. “Or frustrated or something. What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything.” If she didn’t shut up soon, he was just going to leave the room. He could think of some sort of an excuse.
“Jonathan, look at me,” she said sharply.
He did and then knew it was a mistake. She was on her side, propping her head on one hand. Her top had slipped down, exposing far more cleavage than was good for him to see. Too much of her fair skin was exposed, looking smooth and soft and tempting. And her full lips were turned down in a frown.
“Tell me what you’re frustrated about.”
He obviously couldn’t tell her his most urgent frustration, so he hid that with a lesser frustration from earlier, the one he didn’t care about anymore. “It’s really nothing. I had thought we might do some sight-seeing today, just to get away. I wish you would have checked with me before you went shopping.”
It sounded petty even as he said it, but it was better than admitting how much he was fighting arousal.
Her lower lip fell open in astonishment. “Are you kidding? I did check with you. You said it was fine.”
“What could I have said then? You’d already made plans.”
She took a deep breath, evidently suppressing a surge of annoyance. “You’ve got to tell me things, Jonathan. Seriously. We’re never going to get through this, otherwise. I know you’re the strong, silent type or whatever, but this isn’t going to work unless you communicate a little more.”
“Communicate what?” He was almost relieved at the surge of annoyance since it dampened his physical response. A little.
“Communicate what you want! How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking unless you tell me? I can figure a few things out on my own, but not everything and not all the time.”
“I tell you what you need to know. The rest of it doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters,” she exclaimed, her voice rising in her frustration. “You’d had something in mind for us to do today, but you never told me what it was. I would have been thrilled to go sightseeing with you. It would have been much better than spending endless hours shopping for wedding lingerie for someone else’s marriage.”
She broke off, flushing deeply, as if she were suddenly embarrassed.
He wasn’t sure why she would be embarrassed, but it made her look even more desirable, and he felt his groin tightening again at the sight.
“Anyway, the point is I would have been happy to do what you’d been planning if you’d bother to let me know what it was!”
“Okay. Fine. I’m sorry,” he muttered, unused to seeing Sarah so intense and demanding and unsettled by how irresistible he was finding it.
He was used to her fitting herself around him so smoothly he was barely aware of her a lot of the time. He hadn’t realized she was so passionate. About anything.
He wondered if she’d be passionate in bed.
He really shouldn’t have wondered that. He was fully aroused now, and he shifted awkwardly, making sure to position himself under the covers in a way that it wouldn’t show.
She sighed deeply and seemed to release all of her urgency. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I shouldn’t have been…been so snippy. But please try to talk to me a little more. I’m doing my best, but it’s hard. I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You’re doing great,” he said, since she looked momentarily insecure. “I appreciate you doing it at all. Was shopping really so bad?”
“No. It wasn’t that bad. I’m just not a shopping kind of person. They were both really nice. Even Laurel, even though at first I thought…Anyway, it was fine. It just got a little weird when they kept wanting me to buy lingerie too.”
The image of Sarah in sexy lingerie was one he wished hadn’t entered his mind. Then he thought about her in the stockings she was wearing the day before. Tumbled and sleepy as she’d been when he’d woken her up earlier this week.
It took all of his self-control not to roll over and kiss her the way he had that morning. That kiss had been spontaneous, just to prove he could act appropriately engaged, but it had felt real in a way it shouldn’t.
He wanted to do it again. He wanted to do even more.
He wanted Sarah. Bad.
He turned out the light so he couldn’t see her anymore. Then he waited very uncomfortably until her breathing slowed and deepened.
When she was asleep, he got up and went to the bathroom to take care of the inconvenient erection as quickly and quietly as he could.
Chapter Four
Sarah woke up feeling way too warm and cozy.
She knew immediately something was wrong—she never woke up feeling so good. Shifting a little, she felt something hard and hot beneath her cheek and against her chest and belly. She lifted her head and peered through heavy eyelids to see Jonathan’s face just a few inches from hers.
Sucking in a quick breath, she drew back the arm that was wrapped around his waist and rolled over so she wasn’t pressed up against his side. Her cheek was hot from being smashed up against his chest.
She must have rolled over to snuggle with him in her sleep, she realized with a wave of embarrassment.
Fortunately, he was still asleep. Or he had been until she jerked away. He looked up at her groggily, his brown eyes disoriented and strangely soft. “Hi,” he said.
Despite herself, she couldn’t help but smile in response. “Hi.” An almost irresistible impulse hit her. She wanted to curl up beside him again, tuck herself beneath his arm, feel him breathe beneath her cheek.
She wanted it so badly it hurt.
But this was Jonathan. Her boss. And she could never have him that way. Even if she didn’t work for him, he would never want her.
“What time is it?” Jonathan asked. He could have looked over at the clock himself, but he didn’t. He was still gazing up at her with sleepy affection.
It wasn’t affection. She wasn’t so foolish as to believe so. It must just be how he looked when he first woke up.
“Not even five. Too early to get up.”
He made a murmured sound of affirmation, and she settled herself under the covers, still fighting the impulse to scoot closer to him. He breathed beside her, slowly, steadily. She could feel the heat from his big body.
She had no idea what he was thinking, what he felt about…anything.
And
there wasn’t much chance she would ever find out.
***
After breakfast that morning, Jonathan disappeared again, exactly as he had two nights before.
It was honestly a little annoying.
She was his guest here. She was doing him a favor. It was his responsibility to make sure she wasn’t deserted to a bunch of intimidating strangers.
The house guests had all scattered for the morning. Marietta and Laurel had gone to the final fitting of the wedding dress. They’d invited Sarah, but she’d politely refused. They were both very friendly, but she didn’t know them very well. Wedding dress fittings seemed like something you wouldn’t want to do with a stranger.
Besides, Jonathan had mentioned he’d wanted to do some sightseeing with her yesterday, so she thought maybe they could do it today instead.
Except he’d disappeared.
Instead of going up and hiding in her room—which was what she really wanted to do—Sarah walked around the gardens. They were remarkable and must take an army of gardeners to keep so well-tended. She wandered aimlessly, finding unexpected nooks and hidden bowers and trying not to brood over Jonathan’s frustrating behavior.
As she turned around one long, immaculate hedge, she almost ran into Cyrus Damon. He was walking quickly, his phone in his hand and a frown on his face.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sarah said instinctively, although the near collision was as much his fault as hers. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“My fault,” he said, his expression changing into a courteous smile. “Can I help you find something?”
“No, no. I was just wandering around, admiring the gardens. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course it is, my dear. I hope you’re making yourself at home.” He glanced behind her, as if he were looking to see if anyone was trailing. “You’re on your own this morning?”
The implication in his raised eyebrows was clear. His nephew was failing in his duties.
She swallowed over the temptation to make an excuse for Jonathan. There was no excuse. He was supposed to be her fiancé, and he’d left her alone in a strange place. “Yes, I am.” She smiled to make it clear she was content with the situation.
She might just be a fake fiancée, but she wasn’t going to be the kind who whined about being neglected.
“Then may I join you?” Cyrus asked, with a formal courtesy she’d rarely encountered.
“Thank you. But you really don’t have to. I’m sure you’re busy, and I don’t mind—”
“I’m not busy at all,” he insisted. It was convincing, although it must be a lie. By all accounts, the man had made his fortune by working harder than anyone else. “Have you stumbled upon the secret garden yet?”
“No,” she said, charmed by the idea and the girlish daydreams it evoked. “I don’t think so. I used to love that book.”
He wasn’t an attractive man—graying, average-sized, and nondescript. But when he smiled in that winsome way, he transformed into something incredibly appealing. For the first time, she could see the resemblance to Jonathan. “Then you’ll love the garden. Let me show you.”
They walked slowly, occasionally talking companionably about the flowers, sculptures, and trees they past. After a few minutes, he asked her about her family, and she told him about her parents’ small web design business in Nevada and about her sister, nephews, and niece, who now lived in the same neighborhood as her parents.
He seemed genuinely interested, although it was a very average, unimpressive family background. There was something faintly wistful in his eyes when he asked if they were all still close.
She told him the truth. She’d always been close to her family. She talked to her parents every day and her sister at least once a week. But then she wished she hadn’t told him, since it seemed to have made Cyrus sad.
He didn’t reply, and she didn’t know what to say. So they walked in silence until they rounded another large ornamental hedge and moved into a wooded area. After a minute, they nearly ran into a stone wall. “Here it is,” Cyrus said. “The door is just here. The key is hidden, of course.”
“I can see why it’s secret,” she said when he pushed his way past thick branches to pull out a loose stone and retrieve a key. “I never would have found this on my own.”
When he opened the creaky door, she clapped her hands in uninhibited delight. Unlike the rest of the gardens, which were formal and immaculate, this one was free and sprawling in the English style, with flower beds spilling over into each other, big trees growing in haphazard directions, and stone benches and pots nearly overgrown with ivy and vines.
“I love it!” She turned full circle, trying to take in everything. “It’s my favorite part of the whole estate.”
After a moment, she shot him a quick glance, not wanting her comment to be unintentionally insulting. Cyrus didn’t look offended, however. He looked wistful again.
“Was this here when you bought the estate?” she asked, searching for innocuous conversation, since she was feeling strangely sorry for the man beside her and had no idea what to do with the feeling.
He nodded. “One of the previous owners built it in the nineteenth century. It was completely overrun when I bought it. My landscapers wanted to just tear the walls down, but I wouldn’t let them. It took years to get it back into shape.”
“I’m so glad you did. I love it.”
She stood a little awkwardly, unsure of whether he would want to leave or not now that he’d shown her the garden. She didn’t want to leave yet, but she didn’t want him stick around just to entertain her.
She was trying to think of a polite way to suggest that he could leave her on her own in the garden when he walked over to one of the stone benches. “Would you like to sit?”
She walked over, amazed that he didn’t sit until she did. Sarah didn’t think anyone followed old rules of courtesy anymore.
Cyrus folded his hands in his lap and stared down at the grass at his feet. “Is Jonathan doing all right?” he asked, without prelude or segue.
Sarah blinked, processing the question and what it might mean. “Yes. He’s fine.”
“I know he’s successful in his career. What I mean is—is he happy?”
“I think he’s happy,” Sarah said slowly. “I hope he is, anyway.”
Cyrus looked at her, almost urgently. “I don’t mean the question to be any sort of affront against you. I’m very pleased he’s decided to marry and that he’s chosen you. But he never talks to me.”
“I know he talks on the phone to you fairly often.” She had no idea how to handle this conversation. She didn’t want to say anything about Jonathan she shouldn’t—since she knew he had mixed feelings about his uncle—but Cyrus seemed so inexplicably needy. She wanted to make him feel better.
“But he never says anything—anything real. I don’t feel like I know him at all, and I’ve never been able to reach him. I have tried.” He looked away again. “I have tried.”
Sarah swallowed over a thick knot in her throat. There was no reason to feel emotional, but she did. “Jonathan is just that way. He’s really private, and he doesn’t open up easily.”
“How did you do it?” Cyrus shook his head, as if he realized the question was rude and inappropriate. “I’m sorry. If you have any advice for me on how to best reach him, I would appreciate it.”
She didn’t know much about this man, but she knew enough to realize his asking for help was uncharacteristic and noteworthy. Something must really be bothering him. From what she’d heard, he’d had a big blow up with Harrison last year, which they’d just now gotten past. And, until recently, Andrew had a notorious reputation that probably put him on the outs with his uncle as well.
Benjamin, the youngest Damon nephew, didn’t talk to any of them. No one knew whether he was going to come to the wedding or not, although his mother was supposed to arrive the following day.
Sarah suddenly wondered if Cyrus Damon might be lonel
y. He might be a rigid, old-fashioned tyrant, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get lonely.
She thought for a minute before she answered, trying to give him the best response she could. “He closes up if you try to force personal topics on him. He’ll feel like it’s prying and like it’s artificial, if you haven’t built up to it naturally. Maybe you can talk to him about his work. He’s passionate about that and he can talk about it all day long. If he knows you’re really interested in it, he’ll be more likely to believe you want to get to know him.”
Damon nodded, his face reflective. “I’ve talked to him about his work before.”
“But it was always in the context of funding the project, right? Maybe you can show interest in the work for its own sake.”
After she’d spoken, she thought she’d made a mistake. She cringed inwardly, afraid he would think she’d insulted him.
But he didn’t look offended. Just thoughtful still.
“He…” she began, then trailed off when she rethought the comment.
“He what?”
“He does things to show how he feels, rather than says things.” She knew this was true, and it was one of the reasons she loved him. Jonathan had never once told her he appreciated her as an assistant, but he showed her all the time—by stocking her peppermints, by fixing her chair wheel, by trusting her with really important tasks without any sort of micromanaging.
Since Cyrus didn’t respond, she figured the topic was over, so she just sat in silence, admiring the garden, thinking about Jonathan.
After a few minutes, Cyrus said without warning, “His parents were not affectionate.”
She turned sharply to look at him. “What?”
“Jonathan’s parents. They were not affectionate. At all. Now, I will be the first to admit that I’m not a domestic man and I know next to nothing about raising children. But even I could have done better than his parents—my brother and sister-in-law.”
“Were they…” She trailed off, unsure of how much she could presume. He might be in an atypically talkative mood, but that didn’t mean he would welcome invasive questions.