A Lover's Mask (4 page)

He smiled and glanced briefly towards the carpet. “Are you asking me to leave?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it and stop beating around the bush. That's not like you.”

Contessa almost smiled. He was right, of course. But this man—this incredible giant of a man was causing her silk over steel demeanor to slowly, noticeably erode.

“Get out,” she said, since he'd closed the distance between them.

“That's more like it,” he said with a wolfish grin.

“Then do it,” County whispered and turned away.

Instead, Fernando followed her into the living room admiring the asymmetrical cut of the tweed skirt she wore. “What time should I pick you up tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” County asked, her confusion evident.

“Damn, you've already forgotten my offer to show you my life's work,” he said, pretending to be offended.

“Ah,” she gestured with a quick wave and roll of her eyes. “Please don't bother with that. I believe you. I believed you all along,” she told him, leaning against the arm of a chocolate suede sofa. “You look like a man who enjoys dabbling in lots of different interests.”

Fernando eased his hands inside his trouser pockets. “Complimenting me again?” he inquired.

“Can't you tell?”

Fernando only smirked his uncertainty. “I still want you to see the magazines.”

“We're just so busy at the house right now and it's very hard for me to get away.”

“You're the boss.”

“Precisely why I have to be there.”

“Even the boss deserves time away from her desk.”

“Dammit Ramsey, why is this so important to you?”

“Because I want to spend more time with you,” he admitted simply.

“Why?” she challenged, leaning back to get a better look at him. “Do you think it'll lead to something?”

He moved closer. “I think we're past that.”

“You're right. We are and we won't ever pass that again,” she sweetly promised.

Pulling his hands from his pockets, Fernando braced them on either side of her. “You really believe you'll never sleep with me again?”

County felt her heart flutter and ordered her lashes not to do the same. “I really believe that,” she said, scanning his eyes, the slope of his nose, wide mouth and the lightly bearded square jaw.

Fernando seemed to consider her words before standing straight. “I guess I can buy that. After all, we didn't get much sleep then, did we?”

County moved off the arm of the chair. Her cheeks burned as images of them together flashed before her eyes. The things he did to her, the things they did to each other. She thought about it every day. Pleasure swirled through her at the mere memory of the delight she'd experienced. “What we did was a mistake—careless and immature. You must think I'm some sort of—”

“Stop,” he ordered then, his voice brooking no argument. “Don't do that. I won't let you do that.”

County raked shaking fingers across her dark cropped hair and turned. “Good night Ramsey,” she sang, preparing to head for the door.

He blocked her path, his size easily allowing him to do so.

Resist him, resist him,
she sang, focusing on the breadth of his chest as she dared not look him in the eyes. Her lips parted when his hand settled to the curve of her hip. The massive expanse of his palm massaged her there before angling around the generous swell of her bottom. She moaned when one light tug brought her into his incredible frame. A tiny hiss of a curse rose from her tongue as a wealth of sensation flooded her senses.

For several torturous moments, Fernando cupped her derriere, squeezing and grinding her into the powerful stiffness below his waist. His lips brushed her brow, temple and the line of her cheek. Choosing to forget her resistance, Contessa sought his mouth with her own. His tongue thrust hot and masterfully and she welcomed the power of the act. Whimpering amidst the passionate lunges inside her mouth, County's fingers curved weakly into his unyielding chest. When his tongue stroked the roof of her mouth and a low growl rose in his throat, Contessa felt her legs weaken. Fernando held her high to prevent her from slipping to the floor. His kiss was deep and branding—possession personified.

County scarcely noticed that he'd carried her with him to the front door. Her fingers were buried in the beautiful silk of his curly dark brown hair and she relished the power lying untapped within his magnificent frame.

“No going to that office of yours tomorrow. I'll be here by nine a.m.,” he said.

“Okay,” she agreed, sounding every bit the obedient little girl while arching closer for just another taste of his kiss.

Fernando obliged, plying her with a few more sultry probes of his persuasive tongue. County's eagerness and helpless murmurs into his mouth were almost his undoing, but he managed to ease away and set her to her feet.

“Good night,” he said, brushing a smudge of lipstick from her cheek before he walked out the door.

“Y
ou look surprised, Ramsey,” County said at ten minutes past nine when she opened her door to Fernando.

“I expected you to be gone,” he admitted, admiring the black cotton that emphasized the alluring fullness of her bosom.

Contessa stepped aside, waving him before her. “Now why would I do something like that?”

Fernando shrugged, pulling off the hunter green bomber jacket he wore over a sweater of the same color. “I figured you might be afraid to spend time with me.”

“Ah, because you think I'm afraid of how you affect me?” County inquired, rubbing her hands across the long sleeves that hugged her wrists.

Fernando came to tower over her. “That's right,” he confirmed.

And it was true, yet County managed to maintain her cool. “We should eat first. You haven't had breakfast yet, have you?”

Fernando followed as she hurried towards the living room. “Where would you like to go?”

“Here.”

Surprised, Fernando couldn't help but smile when he noticed the table arranged near the fireplace. “How thoughtful of you to order in.”

County cast a tired glance across her shoulder. “Funny,” she sighed, “I cooked.”

“You cooked for me?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I cooked for
us,
” she corrected, then fixed him with a curious look. “Did I catch you off guard or something?”

“You strike me as the type of woman who'd frown on anything domestic,” he confessed, watching as she moved around making last minute adjustments to the table setting. Silently, he noted that she was always seductively impeccable—nails, hair, even her face, void of makeup that morning, was perfect. A natural beauty, he decided, loving the way the black jeans molded to her curvaceous bottom.

“Growing up the way I did makes it impossible for me to be anything other than domestic, no matter how hard I try to run away from it.”

The insight into her background intrigued Fernando and he sat on the back of the sofa to watch her. “So you've tried to run away from it?” he asked.

County uncovered the turkey bacon and shrugged. “A time or two.”

“And?”

“You can never run away from who you really are,” she said in a refreshing tone as though it were something she'd discovered after much searching.

Fernando grinned and Contessa found that she was captivated by the sound of the chuckle that dwelled within his chest. She watched him leave the sofa and come towards her. His steps were slow, purposeful and unwavering, she realized. His walk was a clear example of who he was: patient, determined and unrelenting. He wanted her and no matter how she tried to dismiss it—he wanted something beyond the physical. Beautiful, but was she ready for that? Was she ready for that from this clearly charismatic, clearly dangerous man?

He stopped before her, one massive hand rising to cup her chin. “You say you can never run from who you really are?” he probed, his thumb smoothing across the lush curve of her lips.

“That's right,” she said, a slow tremble rising within her.

“I'd have to disagree. It can definitely be done given enough time and emotional distance.”

He believed that so desperately, County thought, taking note of the increased strength in his voice when he uttered the words. She hadn't the heart to tell him he was wrong. She knew he needed to believe that he could actually be rid of his heritage in spite of the fact that it was bred within him.

“Well,” she sighed, squeezing his hand until it lowered from her face. “I hope you like what I have.”

Again, Fernando's translucent browns raked her hourglass frame and he could only shake his head in admiration.

 

“You really can cook,” Fernando complimented later when their breakfast was nearing completion.

“I'm glad you're pleased,” County said with a smile brightening her oval face. He had no idea how deeply his words delighted her.

Fernando dropped his napkin to the table and had the look of a completely satisfied man. “I expected to see a box of microwave blueberry pancakes and a bag of frozen hash browns. Not a mixing bowl and flour where you'd made the pancakes from scratch or real Idaho potatoes you'd cut up for the browns.”

County laughed at his surprise. “I assure you that I take advantage of the shortcuts quite often.”

“But what impresses me is you don't need to.”

Okay, his flattery and admiration were really pleasing her. Still, she didn't want to read any more into the moment.
Then why'd you cook for him, fool?
she berated herself before dismissing her unease.

“I hardly ever cook except when I take a day off for myself,” she explained.

Fernando's long brows rose. “So you won't be going in today?”

“I had no idea how long it'd take for you to
impress
me, so to be on the safe side…”

“Right, right…” he drawled, taking part in her teasing. “Well, since it'll probably take me a while, we should go on and head out.”

County was already pushing her chair away from the table. “Sounds good,” she decided, collecting plates and silverware to take to the kitchen.

Together, they cleared the table, putting dishes in the washer and returning other items to the fridge and cupboards. All the time they were in awe of how easy the silence was between them. In spite of the very huge thing that had happened between them a few weeks earlier and whatever was going on between them now, they were comfortable with one another. For two people who'd spent the better part of their lives putting on fronts and masks to show how cool and unfazed they were, what they both craved was to find someone to shed the mask for.

 

Mick brushed away a heavy curl that had fallen into her face as she stood before the long spotlight mirror in the bathroom. There, she performed her daily ritual of inspecting her body for the tiniest changes. There was no doubting her pregnancy now—even though everyone else had said she was carrying the baby well and really wasn't showing much. Even her doctor wanted her to eat and put on more pounds.

Still, Mick could see the changes. Her amber gaze was soft as it roamed her belly the way her hands did.
Will I do right by you, little baby? I pray you won't be disappointed.

The bathroom's white oak door opened a tad wider and Quest stuck his head inside. “You all right?” he inquired, smiling as his gray eyes raked her dark body.

“Dammit Quest,” Mick hissed the moment she heard her husband's voice. Reaching for a bath sheet, she covered herself quickly. “Do you always have to just barge in like that?!”

Curious, Quest stepped farther into the bathroom. “Since when do you wear a towel around me?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest while he leaned against the doorjamb. “Unless you're tryin' to tease me?” he asked in a hopeful tone.

“Ha! With
this
body?” she snapped and turned away. “Not exactly what you're used to seeing,” she grumbled.

“Damn right,” he breathed.

Mick's face reflected hurt when she whirled around to face him. “Thanks,” she hissed, trying to move past him.

Quest caught her easily and pulled her with him where he made her lean against the counter. “You're right, you've changed,” he confirmed, smiling when her lashes fluttered and she looked away. He tugged on her arms until she looked at him again. “Your body's even more—”

“Fat.”

“Phenomenal,” he corrected, his left dimpled grin appearing when he saw surprise reflected on her face.

Mick's eyes narrowed. “Don't make jokes Quest. Not now.”

“That was no joke,” he swore, his expression sharp with honesty as he pressed his forehead to hers. “You're carrying my child inside your body. To me, that's more phenomenal than any size five frame bouncing around before me.”

“Size four,” she corrected, giggling when he tickled her.

“Four or forty-four, I love you,” he vowed and pulled away the towel she still clutched. “Are you off limits yet?” he asked, grinning devilishly when she shook her head no. Rising to his full height, he pulled her high against him.

“That's the best thing I've heard today.”

Mick kicked away the towel still tangled between them and arched into his kiss.

 

Fernando shook his head and marveled at the scene that had already replayed itself four times. He and Contessa arrived at Hood Don Publications which housed
Male Desire
and
Threads
magazines. They'd visited several departments and, in the male dominated environment, County held everyone's attention.

They were all impressed by her stature in the publishing industry, that was the excuse they used to stay close to her. Fernando knew the truth, she was a luscious beauty who practically wore her appeal like a negligee. He'd already given the guys more time visiting than he'd planned to. Therefore, he was unsympathetic to their disappointment when he announced that it was time for him and Contessa to head out. He massaged his eyes as the guys crowded around in greater number to say their goodbyes to County. A second or two passed before he was pulled aside by his chief editor, Perry Graves.

“Just when I thought you couldn't possibly top yourself, man. She's somethin' else,” Perry commended.

“Yes, she is,” Fernando agreed, smirking as he watched County revel in the attention she received. “She's also tough and complex,” he confided.

Perry sent his friend a sympathetic glance. “Be careful. Those are the women you want to keep.”

“I know,” he agreed with a slow nod.

“Perry,” County called, walking over to shake hands, “it was so nice to meet you. You've got an impressive place here.”

“Thank you Contessa,” Perry said, squeezing both her hands. “I hope to see you again,” he said. “I have a feeling I will,” he added for Fernando's ears only.

 

“I apologize for any doubts I had about your business,” County said as she and Fernando made their way toward the elevators. “You seem to have a great company—great staff.”

“Thanks, but I promise you it didn't all come together overnight,” he cautioned.

“I can just imagine how impressive your Seattle business must be,” she complimented while toying with the brown and black fringe trim of her mosaic print knit coat. She glanced up in time to see the stoniness take control of his gaze. Clearly his
other
operations were a subject off-limits. “So where are we off to next?” she asked, hoping to dispel some of the tension.

His grin returned. “I want to show you my club, but you might want to grab some lunch first.”

“Well, can't we eat at the club?” she asked, as they stepped onto the elevator car. “Or isn't your club that advanced?” she teased, noticing the uncertainty flash on his face.

“The atmosphere might affect your appetite,” he said, smoothing his big hands together as though he were trying to find the right way to phrase the statement.

County understood. “So it's a gentleman's club?” she asked, watching his long lashes close over his eyes in confirmation. “Ramsey, do you really think a few naked women would rile me?”

“I wouldn't feel right about having you eat lunch here,” he said, more preoccupied by what she'd think than he realized.

County found his unease adorable. She almost prayed that he'd do something that wasn't charming or sensual. Her list of reasons to discourage a relationship with the man was already way too short.

Seattle, Washington

Anson Carter and Graham Johnson felt their hearts drop clear to their stomachs when Sheila McPhereson announced that the boss would see them. The two exchanged looks of sheer dread and followed the executive secretary down the corridor which seemed even longer in the wake of their pending meeting with one of the Dark Squires partners.

Sheila kept a few steps ahead of them giving Anson and Graham the chance to make last minute brush-ups to their explanations.

“Dammit, he shouldn't bite off our heads over this. After all, it was his partner who told us to back off,” Graham reasoned.

“You really want to call the man out like that?” Anson queried.

Graham rolled his eyes. “Brotha, right now I'll do anything to ensure that my ass is still attached to my body when I walk out of here.”

Anson smirked. “Amen,” he agreed.

Sheila waved Anson and Graham toward the slightly ajar double doors. She was about to see them inside when she was instructed by the office's occupant to do otherwise. “Good luck guys,” she whispered before walking off.