Engaging the Boss (Heirs of Damon) (3 page)

“Okay.
Good.” He stood for a moment, still feeling rather disoriented, like his
precariously balanced world was starting to wobble.

Unfortunately,
in the process of staring, he noticed that he could see the outline of her
nipples beneath the thin fabric of her top.

He
really didn’t need to see that.

Her
breasts were gorgeous, full and rounded, their shape easily visible beneath the
clingy fabric. His body obviously liked the look of them, which was totally
wrong.

He’d
tried to date when he first set up the lab here in Iceland, but there weren’t
many women around that matched his intellect and interests and soon it was more
trouble than it was worth. So he’d lived like a monk for the last three years.
It wasn’t an ideal situation, but his urges were simply physical. There were
ways to take care of those urges that didn’t interfere with work.

But
his body knew it was being deprived, and was clearly taking revenge by reacting
quite wrongly to Sarah now.

“Is
everything all right?” she asked, peering at him in concern.

“Yeah.
Sorry. That is, sorry I woke you up.”

“So
we’re still on for the trip?”

“Yeah.
If you’re not with Matt anymore, then I guess it’s fine.”

“Great.”
Her eyes scanned over him, as if she’d just noticed his condition. “Why are you
all sweaty?”

“I
was on the treadmill,” he explained, gesturing with the comic book he still
held, as if that would explain why his t-shirt was sticking wetly to his chest.

She
peered at the comic book, her lips turning up in a smile. “I didn’t know you
ran on the treadmill. Is that what you always read?”

He
glanced down at it almost sheepishly. He’d managed for three years to keep his
habits private, even from the person he worked most closely with. He hated to
be slotted into the geek stereotype, although in some ways he supposed he fit.
He raised his eyebrows almost haughtily. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Of
course not.” Her lips quivered.

“Since,
if I’m not mistaken, you have the entire seven seasons of a television series
about a girl who kills vampires prominently displayed back there, I don’t think
you have any grounds to be snide about my reading material.” He gestured with
his head toward the shelf against the far wall, pleased he had something to
counter with.

She
flushed again and glanced back at them guiltily, although her lips were still
trembling with humor. “I wouldn’t dream of being snide. I’ll let you get back
to the treadmill. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Good.
Great. Thanks.”

He
must sound like an absolute idiot, he realized, when she shut the door. For the
first time since he’d known her, the thought of Sarah made him a little
uncomfortable.

And
he thought of pretending to be engaged to her for a whole ten days with his
family made him
very
uncomfortable.

Sarah woke up in a
strange room.

She
took a minute to orient herself to the crisp bedding and high end furnishings,
until she remembered she was in the bedroom of the luxury London hotel she and
Jonathan had checked into last night.

Sarah’s
parents were squarely middle-class, and she’d been raised staying only at
mid-level chain hotels. This room was much nicer than anything she was
accustomed to.

She
sat up in bed, feeling fuzzy and vaguely nervous.

She
and Jonathan had flown into London the evening before, arriving so late they
hadn’t done anything but go to bed. He’d reserved a two-bedroom suite,
explaining that he didn’t want anyone to wonder why an engaged couple was
staying in separate rooms. Since he was a Damon, people might be paying
attention.

Sarah
would have preferred an entirely separate room—since it would be very easy for
her to start thinking in dangerous directions here—but she didn’t want to risk
exposing their charade, so she hadn’t complained.

She
had a headache, so instead of jumping right in the shower as she’d planned, she
put on a soft hoodie over her tank top, pulled her messy hair into a quick
ponytail, and went out to the main room of the suite to get a cup of coffee.

Maybe
Jonathan wouldn’t be up yet.

He
was up, sitting near the window, drinking coffee out of his travel mug, and
working on his laptop. He’d thrown on some clothes but obviously hadn’t showered
or shaved.

“Morning,”
she said brightly, trying to sound casual, despite the weird fluttery nerves
she felt over seeing him so domestically first thing in the morning.

“Hey.
You’re up early.”

“Not
as early as you. Did you sleep at all?”

He
shrugged, still focusing on his laptop. “A couple of hours.”

Sarah
added a lot of cream to her coffee, since he’d made it as strong as usual.
“What are you working on?” He didn’t usually spend much time on the computer,
so she was curious.

“Email.
Nothing else to do outside the lab.”

Sarah
had learned early on not to send Jonathan email, since he would rarely answer
it. She sipped her coffee, watching as he rubbed his chin and read something on
his screen. He hated email, just like he hated shaving and eating lunch—tedious
duties that distracted him from the work he really cared about.

He
glanced over, noticing her watching him. “Do you think you’ll be done with
shopping by four this afternoon? My uncle wants us there by dinner. If not,
I’ll just tell him no.”

Sarah
almost snorted. “Definitely. I’ve never shopped more than an hour in my life.
If I make it to noon, it will be a remarkable feat.” As she talked, she walked
over to him and checked his mug. It was almost empty, so she brought it over to
the kitchenette to refill it.

He
looked away from his screen again with a smile that made her flush with
pleasure, since he obviously appreciated that she was low-maintenance about
shopping.

He
accepted the coffee she handed him automatically, barely registering that his
mug had been filled. He appeared to be in a friendly mood, so she sat down on
the sofa near his chair to drink her coffee. Her headache was already starting
to go away.

Jonathan
was way too attractive this morning, his t-shirt stretched across his broad
shoulders and strong arms, and the stubble and messy hair making him look
rumpled and masculine.

She’d
never realized he worked out, but she now realized that was foolish. He
wouldn’t be in such good shape otherwise. He must do it right before bed. When
he’d knocked on her door in the middle of the night earlier this week, he’d
been hot and sweaty and sexy.

It
was so strange, seeing him out of a lab coat—like he wasn’t fully dressed, even
though he was completely covered.

Another
flutter of nerves made her ask, “Do you think we’ll have separate rooms at your
uncle’s?”

He
looked up again, vaguely surprised. “Yeah. For sure. He never puts unmarried
persons in the same room.”

“Okay.
I should have guessed, since you’d said he was so old-fashioned.” She hid her
relief. Having her own room would be much better. The less she saw of Jonathan
like this, the better.

Imagining
what he’d be like in bed was really not good for her state of mind.

She
noticed a newspaper lying on a side table, so she opened it up to read. A few
minutes later, she glanced over at Jonathan and noticed he was watching her.

She
was glad she’d put on the hoodie, so she was completely covered. She was in her
pajamas but wasn’t showing any more skin than in her work clothes.

She
cringed as she thought back to the other night, when she had been too startled
by the knock to think about covering up.

Some
women went around in tank tops all the time, but she’d never been skinny enough
for that. She wasn’t fat—by no definition could she be considered fat—but she
also wasn’t skinny, and she didn’t like to show off her body.

She
started to grow uncomfortable, so she got up to refill her coffee and then told
Jonathan she was going to get dressed.

He
mumbled out an inarticulate response. He was focused on work again, so she
wasn’t even sure he noticed she left the room.

***

Sarah stared at herself
in the mirror with a heavy feeling in her gut.

She
really didn’t like what she saw.

“I
guess it’s all right,” she said, turning slightly to see her ass in the three
paneled mirror.

The
saleswoman, whose name was Karen, shook her head. “It’s not good. The black
washes you out, and the A-line skirt makes you look hippy.”

“I
am
hippy,” Sarah responded mournfully.

She
had no idea where the best place in London was to shop, so she’d gone to a
well-known department store. The clothes were more expensive than she’d
expected, there were way too many departments, and she wasn’t even sure what
she’d need. She’d wandered around aimlessly for nearly an hour, feeling more
and more anxious about how she would ever get decent clothes for this wedding.
She was going to humiliate herself and Jonathan.

Karen
had found her close to tears over a rack of cocktail dresses and offered to
help. Sarah had explained her predicament and was vastly relieved when Karen
told her she was in the right place, since she’d definitely need a couple of
cocktail dresses for dinners or drinks.

“Can
I pick out something for you?” Karen asked. “Would you mind?”

“Sure,”
Sarah said. “If you think something would be better than this. But I’ll need
black, won’t I? I don’t want to stand out.”

“Hold
on. I’ll be right back.”

Sarah
returned to the dressing cubicle, took off the unflattering dress, and waited
until Karen flopped another dress over the door.

“Navy
blue is just as good as black,” Karen explained, sounding like she was really
getting excited about the challenge of finding Sarah something to wear.

Sarah
was glad one of them was having fun.

“The
blue will bring out your eyes,” Karen added. “Try it on.”

“It’s
too short,” Sarah squeaked, holding up the simple sheathe dress. “And my arms
aren’t thin enough to pull off the sleeveless look.”

“Try
it on,” Karen said. “How do you know what will look good on you if you haven’t
tried.”

Sarah
grumbled to herself as she pulled on the dress, and she cringed as she
contorted to zip it up in the back. It was far more fitted than anything she
ever wore. Not to mention short. And sleeveless. If she was a size four, she
would have liked this dress.

She
wasn’t a size four.

When
she looked in the mirror, it wasn’t as bad as she expected, though.

“Let
me see,” Karen demanded.

Sarah
self-consciously came out to the large mirror in the dressing area, hoping no
other shoppers were around to see her.

“It’s
great,” Karen said, clapping her hands. “You just need some heels. What size do
you wear?”

Sarah
told her and peered in the mirror dubiously. The soft fabric skimmed her body,
emphasizing the curves of her breasts and waist in a flattering way. Her arms
weren’t as bad as she’d thought—she actually liked the graceful curve of her
shoulders and neck. And, when Karen arrived with a pair of stylish heels,
Sarah’s legs actually looked pretty good.

“See,”
Karen said, grinning. “I told you.”

Sarah
almost laughed, feeling a slowly rising giddiness at the thought of almost
looking pretty. “My skin is too white, though, don’t you think. My legs look
strange. Do you think I should wear tights or…do women still wear pantyhose?”

Karen
frowned, thinking. “Some do, but…Oh, I know. Hold on.”

Sarah
waited, admiring herself from every angle and pleased that even her ass didn’t
look too huge, although the curve of it was definitely visible.

Karen
came back with a smile that was almost naughty. “Here—try these.”

Sarah
gaped at the package the other woman handed her. They were expensive, delicate,
lace-topped stockings.

“You’ve
got to be kidding me,” she said at last.

“I’m
not kidding. They’re very sexy.”

“Do
people still wear these?”

“They’re
back in style. They’d look great on you.”

“Do
I need a garter belt or whatever it’s called to hold them up?”

“No,
no. You’d be able to see the outline of it through that dress. These stay up on
their own.”

“But…I’ll
feel silly.”

“You’re
going to a Damon house party, aren’t you? I’m telling you, these won’t be out
of place, and they’ll be better than trying to wear tights all the time. I’d go
with these or just bare legged.”

Sarah
wasn’t about to go bare legged. Her skin was just too white. Girls at school
used to tease her about wearing white hose all the time when it had simply been
her bare legs.

So
she grabbed the package with a frown. Maybe she’d like them more than she
thought.

***

It was almost three in
the afternoon when Sarah finally got back to the hotel. She’d needed a bellboy
to help her with all her purchases. She’d spent a small fortune at the
department store, but she was very pleased with the results.

Karen
had talked her into trying things on she never would have done on her own, like
the brown pencil skirt she wore now with a moss green cashmere twin set,
two-tone heels, and a string of pearls.

Cyrus
Damon expected people to make an effort, Karen had explained. Evidently, everyone
knew that. He wouldn’t want someone arriving at his estate in jeans, even if
they’d been traveling all day.

Jonathan
wore tan trousers and a dress shirt that was only slightly wrinkled, so he’d
obviously made an effort too. He was still working on his laptop, and he just
glanced over with a “hello” when she arrived.

“Looks
like you found a lot,” he said, taking a gulp of his coffee. His mug was
obviously almost empty, since he had to turn it almost upside-down to get the
last sip out.

Sarah
tipped the bellboy and then fussed around with her bags. She’d had to buy new
luggage too, since she’d never be able to fit all this in the bag she’d brought
with her from Iceland.

She
waited for Jonathan to notice how nice she looked.

A
couple of minutes later, she realized she was waiting in vain. He was obviously
caught up in whatever he was working on.

So
she started lugging bags to her room with a sigh.

She
was about to turn around to get another load of bags, but Jonathan had gotten
up and was hauling the rest of them for her. At least he wasn’t so oblivious
he’d forgotten to be nice.

He
dropped the bags on the floor of her room as he stared at her.

He’d
obviously just realized her appearance had changed.

She
glanced down at herself self-consciously. Her pretty clothes were all still in
place. She got a happy shiver when she saw them.

“What
did you do?” he asked at last.

“What
did I
do
?” she repeated, a wave of disappointment washing over her. His
face reflected no pleasure or admiration at all. Just surprise. “What do you
think I did? I got new clothes. And a haircut.”

She’d
gone up to the salon on the top floor of the department store. They’d cut off
several inches of her hair and given it some long layers. Since it was lighter
than normal, it waved rather than bushed out. The stylist had suggested some
lowlights to deepen the red color, and she’d agreed. She’d also agreed to an
eyebrow wax, a manicure and a pedicure. She felt absolutely gorgeous when she’d
left the department store at last, and she’d never felt that way before.